Tank Academy
by Mazzyandmilk
Summary: Tank Academy is a wonderful academy for tanks of all kinds... except artillery. However, the rules have been flipped for one tank... Birch Gun is a SPG at Tank Academy, where he must try to not be a social outcast whilst dealing with life as a student.
1. Ready Up

Tank Academy

Birch Gun woke up. His gun shield was warm and bright from the sun beating down on it. He crawled out of his tank bed and let his gun shield twirl around to the window. He stared out of it. It was a beautiful day. His gun poked the window and as he did this, a little tracked thing popped out onto the road. It was small and blue, with a long gun striking out of it. His SPG gun depression stopped him from letting his gun fall down to where the tank would be if it was right by him. The vehicle passed.

He turned his hull and 'turret' around and he saw a Crusader SP pop out of nowhere at his open door. He pointed his gun towards the artillery, greeting it.

"Hi Mum!" Birch Gun was excited to see his mother on this bright and wonderful day.

"Son… Do you know what today is?" replied the Crusader SP, with her gun pointed towards the ceiling.

"No… Wait, is it the weekend? 5x experience event?" Birch Gun replied in excitement. "Half price on tier five artillery? Some extra pudding and tea?" Birch Gun was swinging his turret around in excitement. Slowly.

"No… it's your first school day. Don't you remember?

"What?" Birch Gun was aghast.

"Don't you remember? I told you a few months ago. Your winrate was going down and so we decided to send you to an academy."

"Oh… yeah…" Birch Gun pointed his gun low down as far as his gun depression let him. His gun went pretty far. Because Birch Gun was depressed.

"…Which academy?"

"Oh, the Self Propelled Gun Academy down in Ruskie. You know, where all of the KV-1S gangsters come from." Crusader SP replied.

"Isn't that place really rough?" Birch Gun was scared.

Crusader SP turned her gun left and right. "No no dear. Don't worry, that's only a small part of Ruskie. It's a big place, you know. The rough part is where 'Derp Guns R Us' is. All of the KV-1Ss want a 122mm."

"Oh." Birch Gun's gun rose a bit to face his mum. "Okay."

"You're going to have to do a test to get in the academy. Show them that your recent WN8 is real. It's just high enough to get in there."

* * *

Birch Gun had all of his supplies ready for the SPG test. He left the house with his bag full of ammo and his iPad with his stat checking tool on it. He wanted to compare his winrate to other tanks in the neighbourhood.

His turret swung around to look for the weird little blue thing that he saw earlier. He did not know that the little machine went to Tank Academy. He did not even know of Tank Academy. He drove on down the road, admiring the view of trees, the smell of gasoline, and the taste of smoke.

Birch Gun eventually ended up in Ruskie. He instantly spotted a KV-1S with his turret pointed down to another tank. He spotted the tank with his open topped view range. The tank was small and brown. He could just make out a little white star on it. The KV-1S rammed him and the tiny tank flipped over. He could tell what it was: a T1 Cunningham. Clearly he had wandered into the gangsters' territory and had paid for it.

Birch Gun stayed away from them, and he eventually found the Self Propelled Gun Academy. He stared it its posture; it was a gigantic, white building with many spires and towers. He wondered where the actual teaching took place. He drove up the stairs with a disappointing power-to-weight ratio of 9.05. Nobody criticized him, however. He was a SPG; an 'arty'.

He rammed the tall white doors open and was met with a reception room. A T57 artillery was working at the counter. Birch Gun slowly drove in and wiped his tracks on the doormat. The T57 greeted him heartily.

"Uh… Hi…" murmured Birch Gun. He wasn't exactly confident here.

"You are Birch Gun?" the T57 asked.

"Yes…"

"Great." The T57 drove over the counter and pointed its gun towards a map. Birch Gun saw its beautiful coat of green and brown camo drenched over it. Birch Gun stared at it in admiration when the T57 was explaining the directions. Birch Gun wanted his own camo.

"Did you get that?" the T57 asked.

"Uh… yeah…" replied Birch Gun in a slight trance. "I…um… Go up the corridor and then up the left corridor and down the right and then I climb the stairs and up the spire and then down the next spire along the path and then I slide down to the tank testing room."

T57 drove back in amazement. "How… how did you do that? How did you not pause for breath?"

Birch Gun laughed. "I'm an artillery. We don't breathe when we're firing."

"I've never been in a battle… I think I was free exped." replied T57, sad.

"You'll get your chance." Birch Gun felt amazing. This was totally out of character: him being helpful. But he was an artillery. All they do is scumbag and sometimes teamkill. And drown themselves.

Birch Gun left to go to the testing room, shutting the doors. He could hear T57 trying to do what he did, speaking almost a paragraph without stopping to let air through its gun.

Birch Gun was filled with glee. As he drove down to the testing room, he thought about the T57. Maybe they could be friends…

The happy thoughts were slaughtered when Birch Gun saw the door for testing. It was plated with steel and was full of holes and scratches.

Birch Gun gulped. This would be the fate to his life. He remembered he loved to go shotgun, killing every light tank. It didn't work for the team, however. It didn't work for his winrate either. Maybe the old and wise artillery would like his special style of shotgunning. Maybe they will.


	2. Rejected

Birch Gun turned his gun up to a sign. The sign was pelted with big holes. He managed to read 'Shoot at the target to enter.' Birch Gun aimed. He was certain that he would hit the shiny big red target. He didn't get the idea he had to shoot the target twenty metres away, as depicted by the little mark about twenty metres from him.

He let the big 18 pounder shell glide out of his shiny gun. Alas, poor Birch Gun was still stock. He was grinding the next gun, he was about five-hundred experience away from it, but his Mum decided to stop him from tank battling. The grind was tanking his winrate, his WN7, and his WN8. His poor old Crusader SP mum didn't want her little son to be a tomato.

The shell hit the door to the left side of the target, bouncing clean off the plated armour of the door. It didn't even splash, but it wouldn't matter anyway, for the Birch Gun's splash damage is terrible. The advanced door program did not even acknowledge the fact that Birch Gun attempted to put a shell on the target.

But it was no matter, because the door opened anyway. Birch Gun slowly drove up to the door. He looked up.

Birch Gun stopped in his tracks completely when he saw the gigantic behemoth lumbering in front of him.

"Come in." The beast was nodding at Birch Gun with his fifteen centimetre gun. Birch Gun lumbered in fear.

"Fear of me, yes?" The voice was deep, but soft spoken. Birch Gun looked up. "Do not worry, Jünger. You worry when the light tanks rush in the middle."

Birch Gun finally glanced at the steel that was before him. It was blue steel.

"Birch Gun you are, ja?" Birch Gun swung his gun up and down. "I am G.W Panther. Professor G.W. Pleased to meet you."

"O-okay..." Birch Gun nodded at 'Professor G.W'.

"We must get on, Birch." Professor G.W turned round and drove into the testing room.

Birch Gun steadily trailed after the Professor. He entered a spacious room with lots of grass. Birch Gun noted that the grass was devastated by gigantic black marks all around it.

He turned round to see a board of artillery staring at him. Professor G.W joined them, dropping his gun onto the table in front of them.

"Greetings, Birch Gun." began one of them. "I am FV3805." His huge refined seven inch howitzer gave Birch Gun the creeps. He winced.

FV3805 continued. "We are the SPG Professors, also known as the Board of Arty. You're here to get tested to see if you are worthy to join our prestigious school, yes?"

"Um, y-yeah…" Birch Gun hated this. He felt uneasy looking at the artillery with their mammoth guns. The grass felt bad on his tracks. He just wanted to go home and watch the days go by.

Next to the FV3805, there was a gigantic green thing. It had a star plastered on the side of it.

"Здравствуйте, друг." The green thing was speaking in a weird language.

Birch Gun drove back a bit. He was confused. _What was this thing? Is it artillery like me? What is it saying?_

His thoughts popped when the green thing began to speak again.

"Oops! I still think I am in Mother Russia sometimes. I am SU-14-2. D-do not be afraid, my 203 millimetre gun is not pointed at you."

Birch Gun drove back a bit more. His tiny little gun was no match for these tracked beasts.

The final artillery introduced himself. He was brown, with another little star on the side of his superstructure. Birch Gun only saw the beast just then and almost did a backflip when he saw the 240 millimetre howitzer stuck in his body.

Birch Gun got back to his senses and the final SPG began to speak. "Ahahaha. Birch Gun, you have a lot to go before you see me. Perhaps you may not even see me." He spoke like he was talking to a five year old. "T92. I doubt you have ever heard of me, youngling. Maybe you'll be as great as me someday… _as if_."

Birch Gun heard the last comment and pointed his gun at the T92. "You don't have the guts, child. Shoot me if you wish, but your tiddly gun won't even scratch me." T92 was boasting. Birch Gun really wanted to put a shot under his gun, but he wouldn't.

"Go on, whelp." T92 continued. "Shoot the target that pops up in front of you."

Suddenly, there was a loud creaking and Birch Gun could hear screeching from all around him. He discovered it was from above, and the target dropping down from the air gave him a fright. He jumped back. He turned his turret round to see the T92 sniggering. His loud and deep voice made it more audible than he thought.

"Come on, I don't have all day."

Birch Gun rolled over to the target, staring at it. He took aim…

* * *

"How was I supposed to know I wasn't allowed to shotgun the target?" Birch Gun moaned. He was lucky his minuscule splash didn't give him an injury.

He moaned and groaned, typing on the keyboard in front of him. The words "OMG" flashed up on the screen.

He ignored the notification and continued typing questions about his winrate. _How do I improve my winrate? How can I stop my winrate from falling? How do I become unicum?_

He had received ten "OMG" messages on his TankLive Instant Messager program. Giving up, he decided to flash the window up.

He stared at the profile that was sending him messages. T57. Is that the weird artillery that he talked to earlier?

Birch Gun typed on his computer. Sent.

"OMG HI!" he received back.

"Hi… Are you the tank that I met earlier?" he typed.

"OMG! YES! i saw ur profile and had 2 add you!"

"That's cool." Birch Gun was wondering where this was going.

"howd ur app go?" She was clearly high, or at least on caffeine. That's what Birch Gun thought, anyway.

"Bad. I shot it up close and that T92 guy kicked me out. The other artillery protested, but I guess the T92 is the boss."

"oh yeh, the t92 is a twit. don't listen 2 him."

"Yup…"

"that's a shame. we could've gone to skl togetha. aww."

"Anyway, I have to go. My mum's gonna be angry at me, so I'd better hide before she finds me." Birch Gun wanted to get off the computer quickly.

"ok. cya."

Birch Gun turned the computer off and jumped into his tank bed. Even though he made an excuse to get off that chat, he felt he had made a friend.

_A T57. Good start._ He went to sleep thinking about his bad day. Well, it wasn't entirely bad. He had somebody to talk to. That was a good start.

* * *

Birch Gun woke up, like any other day. He drove out of his bed, and drove downstairs.

He slid down to the kitchen, with his mum by his side. She greeted him. She knew all about the situation.

"Don't worry." she began, cheerful. "You'll always be my little Birch Gun."

Birch Gun ignored her and drove onto the tank chair. His bowl of nuts and bolts in oil was ready for him.

"We may have failed that endeavour Birch Gun, but I've signed you up for a new school."

"R-really? What one?" Birch Gun was intrigued. "Is it Mt. Platoon in Sacred Valley?"

"No, dear." she replied. "Tank Academy. It's just ten minutes away. There aren't any SPGs there, however. I hope you won't feel left out."

Birch Gun made no comment.

Mum began again, "I have your bag ready for you." She plonked down the backpack to fit in his crew compartment. "It has all of your school supplies, and your iPad. You… you said you wanted to check other tanks' stats, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Mum."

"No problem. Anyway, you should be off. I'll drive you there."

"Okay."

* * *

They were just down the road where Tank Academy was.

"You see it?" Mum aimed her gun up at the roof of the academy."

"Yeah." Birch Gun replied. His tracks started to move, and he raced down the road.

He saw many tanks he had not seen before. He even saw a heavy tank… wow!

Birch Gun ended up at the gates. He stared at the gates. The bottle green paint was scratched off, splattered with rust. All the other tanks had left. He had no idea whatsoever where he had to go; he was just dropped in the school in the middle of term.

He drove in.


	3. Birch Gun Goes to School

_**Author's note: I don't normally do these, but I replaced this chapter because I felt it was very badly made. I burnt out and made it terrible.**_

Birch Gun entered. He saw all sorts of tanks. His turret turned round to see a gigantic blue tank. It was poking the small blue tracked thing he saw earlier! Birch Gun raced over to approach them.

The behemoth of a tank swung his gun onto the small thing, knocking it over forcefully.

"Ha ha ha!" Its voice was dark and deep. Somewhere in that voice however, Birch Gun could feel some sort of warmth. His theory went away when he heard the hulk shout at the defenceless tank thing. Birch Gun got in a huff, and bravely confronted the thing.

"**OI!"** Birch Gun fired an AP shot in the air. The shell drilled into the ceiling, hanging above the blue bully. A few tanks turned their turrets to look at Birch Gun. The tank turned its turret round to see Birch Gun. His gun pointed at the artillery.

"Well, hello." The colossus sneered at Birch Gun. "Oh, is this your friend, UE 57?"

"Help! ARL 44 is attacking me!" screeched UE 57. It was the small blue thing flipped on the ground.

Birch Gun felt less clever than he had thirty seconds ago. "L-let U-UE 57 go!"

ARL 44 poked Birch Gun with his long ninety millimetre gun. Birch Gun saw the finesse and the work provided to create that gun. ARL 44 slung his turret round Birch Gun's shield. ARL 44's long gun smacked it back, sending Birch Gun and his tracks rolling back.

"Don't act big when you can't take it." ARL 44 laughed. He turned back to the UE 57.

"Hel-" The squeaky voice of the UE 57 became muffled by ARL 44 slamming his gun into her gun shield.

Birch Gun was confused; why was nobody helping this UE 57? Did he have to do everything?

Birch Gun's tracks spun back behind the ARL 44. He raised his hull and smashed back onto the shiny floor. There was a rumble, and ARL 44 turned his turret back to Birch Gun.

"You again, whelp? What are you anyway, a tank destroyer?" ARL 44 snorted, and his laughs ricocheted throughout the room. He got ready to whack Birch Gun again when he yelped in pain. The AP round that got stuck in the ceiling fell out and zipped onto the top of ARL 44's turret, giving him a nasty sting.

Birch Gun dashed back as the blue heavy tank shook the AP round of off his turret. The shell bounced onto the ground. ARL 44 whirled around to Birch Gun, red with fury. He fired a shot in Birch Gun's direction at such a steep angle as to only bounce off the side of his gun shield.

ARL 44 roared with enmity as Birch Gun drove around him, throwing a shot into his side. The armour-piercing punched straight into ARL 44, making him groan with pain. He couldn't bring his turret round to Birch Gun, and so he stopped.

"Fine! You win, whelp, but next time **YOU ARE GOING DOWN!**" ARL 44 hastily rushed off to leave UE 57 and Birch Gun. The other tanks were still flowing in. Birch Gun rolled over to UE 57.

"Thanks!" UE 57's sharp and penetrating voice shook Birch Gun's hull.

"N-no problem…" Birch Gun was nervous. His previous experience with that ARL 44 probably meant the others were going to get him.

"What's your name?" UE 57 asked.

"Oh, I-I'm Birch Gun."

"That's cool. Oh, and if you didn't know this already, I'm a girl."

"Uh, o-okay…" Birch Gun could literally feel the awkwardness in the room. "W-well, I have to get to… wherever I have to be."

"Uh… why don't you check with Mr. Leopard? He'll know!"

"O-kaaay…" Birch Gun drove off. He was happy to get out of that situation.

"Wait!" she shouted. "Watch out for a KV-2 and a Hellcat; they are ARL 44's friends!"

* * *

Birch Gun admired the finesse of the amber floors. He looked down, and he could see himself on the floor. The reflections depicted him perfectly; he could even see the chipped bit where ARL 44 shot him. He didn't know how it bounced off; it was probably RNG.

He drove down the long and fat corridors. He watched the tanks go by. Some were big, some were small, and some were medium. Some had big guns, some were fast, and some were small. Birch Gun looked at himself: he was small and slow, and his gun was puny. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a sleek green tank with marks all over the tank. He froze for a few seconds, and then drove on.

Birch Gun raced down the halls, watching the windows outside. He loved looking at the velvet green grasses whistling in the winds. Sometimes he'd see a beautiful bird flutter in the sky. All of his happy thoughts ended when he bashed into something. He got knocked back and his wheels winded a metre back. He looked at the tank. It was blue, and it looked nasty.

"Hi…?" Birch Gun began. He had not seen this type of tank before. "S-sorry for ramming into you-"

"WHERE ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE, YOUNG TANK?" the voice boomed and the sound waves knocked Birch Gun back. "WHY ARE YOU NEAR MY OFFICE AT THIS TIME?"

Birch Gun did not like getting shouted at. He whimpered softly "U-um," He sniffed. "W-what do you mean?"

The medium-sized tank exploded again. "DO NOT PLAY WITH ME! I'LL SEND YOU TO DETENTION!"

Birch Gun twirled around and prepared to dash. His wheels started to spin and he was off, the beautiful floor being mutilated by his speed.

The tank followed after him. Birch Gun was much slower than this tank, and it soon found him. "DON'T RUN AWAY FROM ME, SCOUNDREL! DETENTION, NOW!"

* * *

Birch Gun sat on the seat, his gun pointed straight up. He didn't know he would be spending most of his time learning about sitting. He looked at the tank in the front: it was a gigantic white hulk with a long gun poking out from it. It stared at the tank newspaper it had plopped on the table.

Birch Gun looked around; there were bored tanks. They looked like they were asleep; their engines didn't look they were running. He saw a big heavy tank. Its turret was tall, and the gun pointing out was chubby. It looked like Tankenstein, at least to Birch Gun.

He looked around in boredom: when is this going to end?

Eventually.

* * *

Birch Gun learnt that the tank who brutally sent him to this room was Leopard 1, the headmaster of Tank Academy. He was mean, strict and dark. He apparently would send anybody to detention for any reason – including strolling about in a random corridor.

Birch Gun knew all of this from UE 57; she had told him all about 'Mr. Leopard'. She had also told him about the school itself. "Just avoid the bullies, and you'll be fine." she said. Birch Gun had met one and seen one. The tall one he identified to be KV-2, a huge mutant tank who was actually an artillery. UE 57 warned him about the fat 152 millimetre gun that resided on his turret. Birch Gun made a note to keep out of his way.

Birch Gun trundled down outside with UE 57. He could feel the awkwardness as every tank seemed to keep out of his way.

"This is the playground! Or rather, the battlefield." UE 57 pointed to the shaggy grass on the field. "Come over here." She beckoned Birch Gun over to the field.

Birch Gun saw a bolt of blue whizz around the athletics track. "W-what is that?" He was dumbfounded.

UE 57 noticed the bolt. "Oh, that's Panzerkampfwagen I Ausf. C. She's one of the fastest tanks here. Maybe even the fastest."

Birch Gun froze for a second, processing the insanely long name. "Pa-panzaa-ah…" He stuttered. "k-campfff-wagon I a-ausf C?"

UE 57 paused. "Or just Panzer I C for short."

"Okay…"

"Hey Panzer I C! Over here!" UE 57's screeching voice made Birch Gun fall over. He couldn't tolerate the decibels being spitted out around UE 57.

Birch Gun got back up and shook his turret. The blue bolt suddenly appeared near UE 57.

UE 57 was the first to speak. "Hi Panzer!" She smiled.

Panzer I C spun on the spot. "Hey! S-sorry, I think I drank too much coffee. Who's your friend here?"

Birch Gun's engine started to shake. His hull was soon wobbling and so was his turret. UE 57 saw this, and decided to take action.

"This is Birch Gun!" UE 57 smiled, and nudged Birch Gun.

"H-hi…" Birch Gun murmured.

"Hi! My name is Panzerkampfwagen I Ausf. C! But you can call me Panzer I C." Panzer I C spun her turret around. "Well, I need to be going now. See ya!" Her wheels spiralled around, and her tracks began to shake. Panzer I C raced off back to the athletics track.

Birch Gun was frozen. He did not expect to be accepted as part of modern tanksociety.

Wow.


	4. Snarky Madness

Birch Gun spun his turret round to see the battlefield. UE 57 watched the tanks go by.

"Wow… there's a lot of different tanks here." Birch Gun was shocked. What were all these tanks? He recognised the artillery and some young tanks, but what was that lumbering brown and chubby heavy tank guzzling some fuel? Birch Gun was intrigued.

He saw the light tanks chase each other. "Hey… that's a T-60." The Russian steel was almost out of his render distance. He watched them more, but suddenly they vanished.

Darkness was cast over UE 57's face. Birch Gun noticed and looked in the direction that she was looking. Birch Gun saw a white tank with beautiful armour. Birch Gun had seen this kind of tank before; he shot it and did a few points of damage. The tank proceeded to shoot his gun shield off. That took a lot of DIY.

UE 57 turned towards Birch Gun. Her voice was low and she spoke quietly.

"Be careful of that tank... You'll find out why in a minute… It's Matilda… She's very… yeah."

Birch Gun wound his turret back to 'Matilda'. _What a weird name_, he thought.

He saw the Matilda strut towards Birch Gun and UE 57, or at least as much as a tank can strut, anyway. Matilda was very shiny. It looked like she was made out of chrome. Her turret had a little white metal flower on it, and it stood out from the rest of her. The flower shined like a light.

Birch Gun watched as Matilda finally drove in front of him and UE 57. She laughed.

"Oh UE 57! This is a new development for you, being with an artillery!" she sneered evilly. "It's a shame that he's bigger than you, though…"

UE 57 shook her gun disapprovingly. She couldn't shake it far through, because her gun arc was very narrow.

The snobby tank continued. "I'm sure you'd make a GREAT couple." She cackled like a witch and spun round, whizzing off.

"Um…" Birch Gun's engine froze up. He shook.

UE 57 sighed. It sounded like she had heard it before. "Don't worry, Birch Gun. The devil said that about M2 Medium and I…" She paused. "She also said that when I was talking to my friend Sturmgeschütz III…" She whimpered, thinking if she should say anything more.

"St-u-h-rmmm-gueschotzz?" He fumbled with the words.

UE 57 interrupted him. "Oh yeah, meanie Matilda also said Panzer I C and I would be good together… Pshaw! I'll get her back one day."

Birch Gun almost spat out a shell, his turret whizzing around. He would've been lifted off the ground if he wasn't so incompetent at flying.

UE 57 coughed. She tossed away the awkwardness by speaking. "Well, um, why don't we go check on some of my friends?"

"O-okay."

UE 57's tracks spun and she drove off. Birch Gun tried to stay behind. Birch Gun drove past Matilda. He rasped at her using some sort of gun technique. Matilda looked at Birch Gun, but he was already gone. She stomped on the ground, her spaced armour jiggling around. Birch Gun and UE 57 drove down to the playground. There was a swing hung by chains. The seat was dancing in the air. A brown tall tank with a star on its turret stood on the seat. The star particularly stood out: it was very shiny.

UE 57 drove forward. Birch Gun stayed behind, his engine muffled in silence. UE 57 approached the figure. It turned its turret to her, and he hopped in the air. He fell onto the track-cursed sands, his gun pointing down to her.

"UE 57!" the thing cried. The mutant had many machine guns, and they all pointed at her. Birch Gun watched from afar, uneasy.

He finally salvaged some courage and he slowly rolled over to the two. He could hear UE 57 and the tank talking. UE 57's voice was tremulous for some reason. He only got half a metre forward when the tall tank spotted him. Its open mind (and turret) came to one thing: the white tracked creature in front of the brown metal that resides on it is clearly an Oni summoned from the depths of Japan. The machine guns on the thing shifted their focus on Birch Gun.

UE 57 watched this, her gun quivering. She didn't know how to control the barbaric tank standing in front of her.

Suddenly, the tank opened fire. The bullets jumped out of the gun. Birch Gun spooked. He panicked and the lead missiles ate his gun shield. A shell slipped out of UE 57's gun. She rammed into the tank but she bounced straight off.

Birch Gun ate a bullet in his gun. It went straight through the other side. The tank stopped to reload.

The tank huffed and puffed several times while Birch Gun got ready. He let a shell glide out of his gun, blasting the explosive tube into the tank. Birch Gun's shield shook, and his tracks trembled. UE 57 watched in horror as her psychopathic 'friend' shot as well. His howitzer met Birch Gun's shell and they exploded in the air.

The tank spoke. "Do you not realise who I am, demon spawn? I have a gun just as you do!"

Birch Gun finally decided that this vehicle who stood before him was a bit loopy. "W-well, you're a tank, I know tha—"

"I AM M2 MEDIUM!" it boomed. "AND I WILL DESTROY YO—"

Birch Gun ended his campaign with an 75 millimetre shell. It seemed to work.

The tank exploded. It would take a lot of handiwork to fix that.

UE 57 whirled around to Birch Gun, her tracks gobbling the mud.

Birch Gun twisted his turret round to her. Silence was dominant apart from the playground ambience around them.

UE 57 looked at the wreck, and then to Birch Gun. "You destroyed my friend, but I guess you saved me… I guess…" She had mixed feelings. "He was a bit controlling, but his heart was pure…"

UE 57 knocked the tank corpse, and a thing fell from it. It rested onto the ground, making an unusual clang.

She picked it up, seeing an inscription. The metal was in the shape of a star.

"The Artillery Hunter…" she read it out. She looked at Birch Gun. He was shaking more than usual.

"W-what?"

"He must have had a lot of Pas—" She was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. She turned round, seeing an extremely vibrant tank. Birch Gun was blinded.

"Hi?" it said.


	5. Conflict

The playground became quiet again. Where the destroyed tank was now a puddle of black. The tanks saw the tank being carried off on a stretcher.

UE 57's gun sunk. "It's the KV-1s…" She pointed at the stretcher. "They're the nurses…"

Birch Gun was about to say something, but he was interrupted by a tap on his gun shield. His turret spun round. Birch Gun met exasperated howling. The noise made his tracks roll back a metre.

UE 57 drove next to him. This ancient shouting force was Leopard 1, a tank from nobody's generation. He had a tie on.

"**YOUNG TANK, HAVE YOU NOT LEARNT FROM DETENTION?**" His tie flapped around. It looked like it was angry as well.

The floral tank behind them winced. It was also with another tank, a tank with beautiful sloped armour and a nice turret. It looked angry as well.

Birch Gun was scared of everything else, but he decided that he wasn't going to fall to this behemoth futuristic vehicle. "Well, he shot me and so I decided to re—"

"**DO NOT TALK BACK TO ME. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?**" Leopard 1's turret was jiggling around like a bowl of infuriated jelly. With explosions.

UE 57 knew this main battle tank too well. She slowly drove back, bumping into the floral thing. "Um, Ram II, can you move?" Her wheels spun, but to no effect. Ram II was frozen.

A lot of tanks gathered around, watching the conflict. Some of them were sniggering.

Leopard 1's turret moved. "Get to your classes, everyone. I have some talking to do."

Birch Gun flinched; the holes in his gun shield were making sharp pain. It didn't help that his armour was terrible. 'Worst in the…' Birch Gun remembered part of a quote that a light tank said to him before pelting his side with 37mm shells.

The tanks slowly rolled into the academy. The other tank pushed Ram II into the school. UE 57 was drawn back. Her engine was so hot it could've caused a fiery armageddon.

There was smooth silence. Leopard 1 heard a loud engine coming towards his flank. He turned to meet a green tank.

"Morning, guv."

"Hello, KV-1. How is the work on the tank?"

Birch Gun saw a little hat with a red cross on it. KV-1's turret swung, the little hat swaying about.

"Not going well, sir. The arty did significant damage to 'im. He's a M2 Medium, sir."

Leopard 1 sighed. "Well, I saw that. Perhaps you should check the culprit…"

Birch Gun gulped. His tracks moved back and he rammed into UE 57. She was hiding behind him.

KV-1 found Birch Gun and met him. "So… you're the artillery, I suspect."

"U-um, yes…" Birch Gun cried in pain again. "I-I had to shoot him, he was attacking me with his machine guns…"

KV-1 widened his focus on the gun shield. "Wow… these went straight through. Are you okay?"

Birch Gun was silent. UE 57 was still pressed against his back.

"We'd better get you in for repairs." KV-1 replied. He drove off, Birch Gun following him.

Leopard 1 snarled. He wanted to have Birch Gun in detention again.

UE 57 suddenly realised that she was in the open. She knew that if you were caught outside when you're supposed to be in classes, there would be detention. A lot of detention.

UE 57's tracks whirled as fast as her engine would let her. She hid behind the heavy tank slide, her engine wheezing.

She was hidden.

* * *

Birch Gun was led through the corridors. He saw many different rooms. Most of them were boring, but there was an interesting one: it had a metal plaque on it that said 'Arty…' The sign was old and rusted and the words were faded. He wanted to go in there.

In Birch Gun's mind, he was thinking about three things: pain, detention, and where UE 57 was. In his mind, UE 57 was probably in a dungeon. Also, the pain.

Birch Gun cried; how long had he been following this KV-1? How far away was this nurse room thing?

KV-1 finally stopped in front of a big white door, splattered with scratches. It looked like somebody had tried to get in.

KV-1 opened the door. They drove in.

Birch Gun was met with a dark shady room concealed by deathly curtains. Birch Gun instantly felt like a tier one in a tier ten fail platoon. He saw an outline pick up a sharp thing and dig it into a cloth.

He didn't see the KV-1. Birch Gun turned his turret. He did not see the seventy-five mm gun bash his turret into unconsciousness. His gun sunk.

* * *

Birch Gun woke up to flashing lights above him. He was encased in a cloth. It wrapped round him. Birch Gun felt dizzy, and his turret swayed around slowly. He had seen darkness around him until he saw blinding lights take his view range sight away.

His tracks spun vigorously, but he didn't move. He realised he was floating in the air. KV-1 appeared in the darkness.

"Are you okay?" he said. KV-1's little hat was positioned on his gun.

Birch Gun tried to say something, but he found out quickly that he couldn't. It felt like a bad dream. But tanks don't dream.

"Oh, sorry." KV-1 whimpered. "You'll be able to speak in about an hour."

Birch Gun was going a bit mad. He wasn't able to speak or move, and he was surrounded by both darkness and lights. His confusion amplified when he saw another KV-1 come out of nowhere.

"That's my colleague." KV-1 bumped the other one. He sighed.

"I'm Panzerkampfwagen KV-IA 753(r). I was captured by Germans and converted into a Fritz. Sorry for bonking you over the head, I thought you were a member of the Allies. Alas, we are not in true war."

Birch Gun blew up in response to what he just heard. He recovered, looking at the German steel.

"Just call me KV-IA." he replied.

Birch Gun nodded his gun. He still didn't know why he was here.

KV-1 saw Birch Gun's confusion. "Ah, yes…" He paused. "You're here because you had injuries. Yes?"

He nodded.

"The little holes in your gun shield… KV-IA didn't know how to convince you to get to the hospital so he bashed you on the turret. You went a little wobbly and you fell."

"Uh, yeah, sorry…" KV-IA murmured.

KV-1 continued. "They replaced your gun shield and gave you some new paint. You were looking a little rusty in places."

The lights turned on. Birch Gun turned his turret and saw M2 Medium asleep. He was repaired fully, save for the machine guns. Ram II and the other tank stood beside him. Birch Gun gulped.

Ram II was looking down at M2 Medium, shaking. The other tank looked grimly at Birch Gun (as far as a tank can look grimly).

KV-1 and KV-IA lifted him down onto the ground. His turret swung towards M2 Medium and then back. He drove off as fast as he can.

Now he'd have to find UE 57.


	6. The Bullies

He drove.

Birch Gun had been searching through these damned corridors for ages. He didn't stop; he didn't even know where he was. How big is this school? he thought.

He stopped in a random hall. Lockers were scattered along the walls. It seemed that a battle had gone on here.

Birch Gun's tracks rose over a maroon locker. Its paint was kissed by scratches and flaking paint. He examined the locker. He could just make out a name… Churchill… Gun Carrier?

"I wonder what that is…" Birch Gun sighed.

His focus had quickly switched from the 'Gun Carrier' to the plaque in front of him. He hadn't noticed it before. Birch Gun drove forward, inspecting the brass square nailed onto the door.

On the plaque were a few words sunk into the brass hanging above him.

He tried to read it, but the plaque was drenched in irrelevant things that made the words out to be 'BULLIES' HANGOUT'. Birch Gun sniffed and considered the qualities of life and his winrate.

He noticed the door a second later. He was just about to embark on this potentially dangerous adventure when he heard rumbling behind him. Birch Gun swung his turret round to see a rusty heap. On closer inspection it was a boxy monster with a terribly huge gun swinging from side to side. Birch Gun had seen this tank before, but not with this unsightly box on top of it. He had seen it with a sleek turret with a lovely British gun.

The behemoth was splattered with rust and scratches. Its gun trembled as its dirty, mud-cursed tracks shook across the shiny floor. That was when Birch Gun noticed the glinting floor. He didn't understand how it wasn't ruined by the constant barrage of tanks sailing through the halls.

Birch Gun woke up from his daydream to see the anti-hunk a metre away from him. It had a distinctive splatter of red paint on the left side of its superstructure. The paint was hugged by foul dust.

"H-hi…" Birch Gun murmured. He was not sure of this tank; it looked like Tankenstein to him. He wished he had a friend to help him in this situation.

Birch Gun was surprised when the thing didn't reply. Its engine growled in frustration.

"Hello?" As the tank spoke, its hull jiggled about. Birch Gun found this jiggling a bit haunting.

"Hello?" Birch Gun replied. "Why 'Hello?'"

There was no reply. Birch Gun tensed. "I-is this a trap?"

He was just about to turn and leave when he heard dripping.

Birch Gun swerved around to see black liquid dancing on the floor. He identified the liquid as oil. He looked up and saw the tank crying oil.

"U-um, are you okay?" Birch Gun was quite worried about the mental status of this tank.

"Y-yesss… I-It's just that n-nobody's ever s-spoken to me without i-insulting me…" The tank cried.

Awkwardness filled the hall with silence. Birch Gun made no effort to say anything as the tank was crying oil.

"M-my name is Churchill Gun C-carrier…" He paused. "I'm a British hulk with flat armour all around and a devastating gun… if it wasn't coated in r-rust…"

Birch Gun was silent while this big tank destroyer bawled. He really didn't know what to say or do in response to this endless whining.

"Well, uh… um…" Birch Gun paused to think of constructive things to say. "I have bad armour, I'm slow and I have a devastating gun… I think… not…" Birch Gun decided not to let Churchill Gun Carrier hear the last part.

He stopped bawling. "Oh… well, that's nice. Good to know there's somebody equally as bad as me."

"What?" Birch Gun felt offended.

"O-oh, err, nothing."

Birch Gun had almost forgotten about the 'bullies' hangout.'

He pointed over to the door. "What's that?"

Churchill Gun Carrier suddenly tensed and he drove back. "No no no no, don't go in there."

"Why not?"

"The bullies are probably in there right now. I haven't seen them come out of there today."

Birch Gun turned his turret to see the hangout. "Who?"

"Evil, terrible creatures. ARL 44, KV-2 and Hellcat. You don't want to mess with them!"

Birch Gun recognised the names. "I've met ARL 44. I destroyed that big terror. Who did he think he was, Napoleon?"

Birch Gun, ignoring every warning thrown at him by Churchill Gun Carrier, decided to go Rambo. He loaded one of his trusty shells and spat it out at the door, eating the door and the wall away. His wheels moved and he rolled in, triumphant.

Birch Gun was met with darkness. He could hear inaudible speech. Suddenly, he was flashed with light. He rolled back into a wall, unable to see anything.

"Oh, who is this, friends?" Birch Gun heard a heavy Russian accent constricted by cruelty.

Birch Gun was able to see again. He instantly saw a tall tank with a gun reminiscent of a battleship, at least to Birch Gun. He also saw an open topped tank with a cruel looking gun mantlet. Finally, he saw ARL 44, the French beast with a bad attitude.

Birch Gun spun round to leave but he felt a shell split his track. His wheels moved to no avail.

"нет!" the Russian tank shouted. "You are not leaving!"

Birch Gun instantly realised his mistake. He was a lone tier four artillery detracked by a 90 millimetre shell. He was also surrounded by an American tank destroyer and two very mean heavy tanks.

"OK baddie, let's talk." The Hellcat sneered. "We might just let you go if your stats are high enough."

Birch Gun shivered at the thought of stats.

"As we can see, this Birch Gun's stats are very low."

ARL 44 spoke. "Hellcat's stats are very high. He is purple. What are you, red?"

The three bullies laughed. Birch Gun was confused.

"We have WN7, WN8 and winrate." ARL 44 continued. "You have none."

Hellcat chuckled. "My WN7 is 9999, my WN8 is 9999, and my winrate is 100%. I'm a true winner."

Birch Gun remembered: he had a stat checker app on his iPad. He snuck his iPad out whilst the bullies were insulting his mediocre stats. He checked the Hellcat.

"WN7 124… WN8 93… Winrate 43.29%..." Birch Gun snickered.

"WHAT!" Hellcat was sent into a rage. He spun his turret round (albeit, very slowly) and whacked Birch Gun in his shield.

"Scum! That's what all of you are! You cheat and use stat checking in the games! You prioritize us good tanks!" Hellcat burst out random blubber. "Just to let you know, I'M A REROLL!"

Birch Gun didn't like getting hit in the shield. He remembered the M2 Medium. He rolled back, defenceless.

The other bullies drove back in awkwardness. They didn't like Hellcat's raging.

"You call us goodies window lickers even though we carry your team and get two hundred Top Guns in one match! Nobody likes you! ARGH!"

Hellcat ended it all with a shot. Birch Gun fell. The other bullies took the emergency exit.

* * *

Birch Gun groaned. He felt a large pain in the left side of his front. He was back the right way up but he was still without a working track on the left. He couldn't see anything.

"It's the apocalypse… Hellcat has gone absolutely mad…"

"I know… who triggered him?"

"The a-artillery… The artillery!"

"I knew we were doomed. Hellcat hates arty… Especially ones who insult his stats…"

New voices were heard from every direction. He couldn't do anything; he couldn't even speak.

"Where is the artillery?"

Suddenly, Birch Gun felt himself breathing.

"**H-HEEEEEEEEEELPPPPP!" **he instantly screamed.

He heard a shot, and more destruction. He heard crashing and screams everywhere.

He could suddenly see. He was concealed behind a wall. Churchill Gun Carrier was hiding with him.

"Y-you're a-awake…" Churchill Gun Carrier whispered. "It's hell out there, you know…"

Birch Gun had so many questions that it burst his tank brain. He let Churchill Gun Carrier continue.

"O-oh my gosh, he went mad… I was hidden in another room, but I saw Hellcat come out of the room. I-I found you and dragged you here…"

They heard a blast. A green tank skidded in front of them. It was missing its rear wheel and its engine was blazing. "AaAAhh, HELP!"

"W-what, was this all because of m-me?"

The green tank went past. It stopped a few moments later.

Churchill Gun Carrier didn't reply. He was too fixated on Hellcat being clamped. His gun was covered with cement and he was being dragged along the floor.

"Well, that e-ended quickly." Birch Gun sighed. "I'm glad that's over."

"Doesn't that 90 millimetre shell in your hull hurt?"

"No, only if I move. I guess I should get this fixed up—" Birch Gun stopped when he saw a wave of tanks stream past the duo. Birch Gun heard the scream of the green tank.

"They're going to the nurses' room." Churchill Gun Carrier began. "You probably should go, too."

Birch Gun didn't reply.

"Actually, why haven't I had any lessons yet? I've just been thrown into this school with no guidance."

Churchill Gun Carrier thought. "Um, maybe you're in the same lesson as me."

"I need medical attention. It's starting to hurt…"

"O-oh yeah. Um, I'll get something for you…"

Churchill Gun Carrier drove off. Birch Gun was left alone, except for the green tank's rear wheel on its side.

There was silence.


	7. Medical Attention

…

Birch Gun turned his turret. His drive wheels didn't move. He was absolutely stuck.

There was absolute silence still. Birch Gun noted that nobody came down the corridor he was detracked in. He saw the green tank's rear wheel. It was presumably shot at.

Birch Gun mustered enough pain resistance to attempt to drive. The gaping hole in his hull was taxing on his power of moving. He tried harder and his wheels started to spin. His tracks finally moved and he forcefully drove into a wall. Birch Gun drove back and he spun into the rear wheel.

Birch Gun picked the rear wheel up with his gun. He dropped it into his crew compartment.

Birch Gun spotted a rusty box moving towards him. Its tracks rumbled as it trundled down the corridor. Birch Gun discovered it was Churchill Gun Carrier, and that he was moving towards Birch Gun at an agonizingly slow speed.

Birch Gun waited for him to finally arrive. When he did, Birch Gun waited for him to speak.

"A-ahem…" Churchill Gun Carrier croaked. "Here's some… medical supplies." Churchill Gun Carrier groaned. He attempted to shake a bag off the top of his hull. He almost tipped over but he managed to drop the bag on the floor. He drove back and pushed it to Birch Gun, prompting him to open it.

Birch Gun stabbed the bag with his gun, opening it up. Birch Gun looked at Churchill Gun Carrier with discontent.

"W-what is this!?" Birch Gun screamed, his rage fuelled by pain-induced adrenaline.

"Um… uh…" Churchill Gun Carrier slipped on his words. "I-I don't know, I just took them from the me—"

"Mechanical room?" Birch Gun sneered.

"M-Medical room." Churchill Gun Carrier replied. He was taken aback by Birch Gun's hostile response.

Birch Gun stared at the open bag. "Nuts n' bolts. I can't use these!"

"Are you sure?" Churchill Gun Carrier had no knowledge of anything whatsoever; he just tried to wing it in the 'medical room'.

"They're just nuts and bolts. I need new plating or something."

"Oh, right." Churchill Gun Carrier slowly spun around. A few minutes after, he was in position to drive off. He did so.

Birch Gun waited for his inevitable return. He looked at the rear wheel. It was fairly heavy.

Suddenly, a green blur hopped past him. Birch Gun was blinded. He recovered and saw the blur again. It stopped right next to him with a mind-bendingly loud screech. It almost topped over.

It was the green tank. Its once shiny armour was now caked by dust and other unsightly substances.

Birch Gun recognised the tank instantly as the one who was assaulted mercilessly by Hellcat and was hopping along with its engine being licked by relentless fire. The green tank had magnificent sloped armour with a lovely slab of spaced armour on the side of its turret. Its gun was small, but it looked like it could do some damage. The tank was missing a rear wheel.

Birch Gun greeted it sheepishly.

"Um… hi…" he murmured, inaudibly.

The green tank was fuming for some reason. "So, you're the one." It spoke with an accent Birch Gun couldn't identify. He had heard something like it before in his battles, but not much.

"You stole my wheel! I have been searching all over for the place for it, and you have it. Thief!"

"U-um, I was only k-keeping it for you…"

"Liar! Thief! Hooligan! Rapscallion! Rebel! Evil!" It seemed that the raging green tank was spitting out random words at this point. It snatched the wheel from Birch Gun and drove off clumsily. It was hard to drive without a rear wheel.

Birch Gun spotted the shiny green plates on the back of its hull. He figured it was when it went to the medical room. The plates were fitted expertly.

He watched the tank stagger and spin in circles. Birch Gun snickered a little bit to himself.

Then, he reminded himself of the hole in his hull. His poor gun depression disallowed him to look at it directly.

Birch Gun heard rumbling. He turned his turret and he saw the familiar rust-cursed behemoth rolling towards him. Preparing for the inevitable failure, Birch Gun sighed. What would Churchill Gun Carrier bring this time?

Birch Gun heard Churchill Gun Carrier's engine croaking from a mile off. He was going considerably slower this time around.

Churchill Gun Carrier finally arrived. "I think I have the stuff for you now." Churchill Gun Carrier puffed. He was clearly fatigued from the taxing endeavour he had to go on.

Birch Gun waited patiently for Churchill Gun Carrier to drop his load. His patience was dwindling with every second.

Churchill Gun Carrier unloaded the loot. A wrench, a rusty blowtorch and some metal struck the ground. Birch Gun was silent.

"So…" Churchill Gun Carrier began. "I'm going to operate on you!" He grabbed the wrench enthusiastically.

"What!" Birch Gun screeched. He did not want to be operated on by a tank destroyer that can't hit a target from a metre away.

"U-uh, Churchill, it's o-okay, I'll survive." Birch Gun croaked. He was incapable of speaking properly.

"Don't worry Birch Gun; I'm a qualified tank surgeon." Churchill Gun Carrier laughed heartily.

It occurred to Birch Gun that Churchill Gun Carrier didn't even select the correct tool for the job. A wrench?

"But first, I'll have to use the blowtorch." He picked up the blowtorch with delight.

Birch Gun was frozen with fear. He could not express himself or anything, until Churchill Gun Carrier dropped his tools. He started to laugh and couldn't stop. Birch Gun looked at him until he started wheezing and coughing. Noxious smoke punched out of his engine. When it finally cleared up, he looked at Birch Gun.

"What was that?" Birch Gun inquired, puzzled.

"Y-You're so gullible! Haha!" Churchill Gun Carrier laughed with a raspy voice. "You actually thought I was a tank surgeon!"

Birch Gun was silent again, rage building up in him. It felt as if a skyscraper of anger was about to be knocked down, destroying the city below it.

Churchill Gun Carrier continued. "Yeah, I don't have anything to give you to fix that hole."

Birch Gun saw a stream of tanks drive in front of him. They were going outside of the academy.

"Oh yeah, it's time to go home. I hope you can make your way home…" Churchill Gun Carrier's tracks rumbled and he trundled off. Birch Gun would go red, if he wasn't a tank.

His engine rumbled, and he set off, albeit in pain.

* * *

Birch Gun settled into his room. He had greeted his mother and instantly gone upstairs. He drove onto his tank bed and flicked on his laptop. It started up and he took hold of the mouse. He bought the mouse from ArtyFest a few years ago when he was a little Loyd Gun Carriage. It was a FV304 mouse, with a FV304 mousepad. Birch Gun was ambitious.

He instantly got a message. He loaded up TankLive Instant Messager and was bombarded by the same messages that nuked him a few days ago.

"OMG, ur on!" It was T57. She was clearly excited.

Birch Gun typed slowly. "Yes, I'm on…"

"i was waiting 4 u to come on. i was getting pretty bored."

"Doing what?" Birch Gun sighed.

"receptionist work. The t92 thing forces me to do boring stuff."

Birch Gun left the laptop. He looked out of his window. Normally he'd see UE 57 driving along, but he didn't. Birch Gun instantly returned to the laptop and quickly typed "Gotta go."

"Goyt \aghko/" Birch Gun disappeared.

"what?" T57 replied.

No reply.


	8. Hoppin' Mad Rescue

It was a new day. Birch Gun had been worrying about this whole thing for hours. His tank brain thought, "Where is UE 57?" or, "What am I doing skipping classes in order to organise a one-man search party looking for the tank destroyer?"

He was in the school now, situated inside the main hall. Tanks all around him were going into different halls. Birch Gun observed every tank that came in; his search expedition was halted when he saw the green tank. It was focused on going forward into a hall. Interested, Birch Gun began to follow it.

It drove fairly slowly. Birch Gun had no problem keeping up with it. Birch Gun's engine honked like a blue whale doing a call, however. He attempted to conceal the rambunctious noise, but it didn't work. Good thing the green tank didn't hear it. The green tank swerved and Birch Gun instantly hid behind some lockers. He remained undetected, due to his nice camo rating.

The light tank stared at a door. It bumped into the wall. Birch Gun expected frustrating growling from the tank bumping into the wall, but it went straight through the wall. Birch Gun was bewildered. He focused and got ready to move. His tracks began to turn, but they stopped when he saw a platoon of M8A1s. The trio also went through the wall.

Birch Gun finally gathered some courage. He commandeered himself forward, sinking through the wall. There was a cloth over a large slit in the wall; the cloth looked like the normal brick wall coated with paint. Birch Gun wondered why this dark hallway he was going through was so secret.

The SPG finally discovered light. There was a light bulb stuck onto the wall shoddily. Below the light bulb was a big round table, constricted by chairs. Birch Gun waited in the shadows. He suddenly saw a big, black shadow surge forward onto the light-coated table.

Birch Gun tried to identify the tank. He saw more black outlines take their places on the chairs. Birch Gun was scared; what was all of this about?

"So," the shadow spoke. "I assume you have found the target?"

"Yes." The voice was familiar; it had the unsettled voice and the thick accent. Birch Gun just about saw a sea-green outline on the tank. It was the green tank.

At that time, Birch Gun noticed a cage. Its bars were welded onto the top and bottom clumsily. A small tank resided in the cage. The tank was drooped down like a wilted flower.

The big shadow trumpeted. "Good. Do you know its name?" Its voice was also familiar. It sounded like… a bully. Birch Gun couldn't think of which one it was.

Birch Gun searched for the answer. He foraged it from deep in his mind. ARL 44…

Another tank was speaking. It had an American accent. "No, sir. All we know is that he is an artillery."

Birch Gun instantly shuddered. Artillery? What artillery were they talking about?

"I met him yesterday, sir. He had my rear wheel for some reason. He is a thief, and he terrorises our friends!" That was the green tank. Its voice was tinged with anger.

Birch Gun heard the green tank. His whole hull shook as a result of his engine beginning to overheat with apprehension. Birch Gun was glad he wasn't born as an E-25.

"Well, we'd better hit up on our lovely tank destroyer friend." growled ARL 44, spitefully. "I'm sure she'd love to talk."

The table shook as ARL 44 laughed. He reversed off the chair and twirled round, driving over to the cage. He bumped the cage, making it shake from side to side. The little tank woke up.

By that time, the whole group were over by the cage. Birch Gun made his way in, trying to be as stealthy as possible. He hid behind the table.

"Wake up, baby!" ARL 44 blubbered. "It's interrogation time!"

"Yeah! Ha!" the American tank chimed in. Birch Gun knew that there were at least two more. He identified them as M8A1s, cheeky American tank destroyers that had a habit of being extremely annoying and arrogant. Birch Gun had destroyed one once; the open topped turret was too good to resist.

"Wakey wakey!" yelled ARL 44. He swung his turret with such great force that if it had hit the cage, some of the bars could've fallen off. He missed and he staggered back in a confused daze. The cage was gone, somehow.

"Gaah! What is this trickery?" barked ARL 44. He sternly ordered the other tanks to go find the cage and the tank firmly sealed inside it. He squawked in such a way that he sounded like a bird that was hit by a P-51 Mustang in the sky.

Birch Gun expected to be found at any time soon, so he got ready to leave. He swiftly cruised along the hard floor at his slow top speed. He tore through the curtain and ended up in the middle of the hallway. Behind him, he heard a squeaky voice.

"Birch Gun!" yapped the voice. "You're here!"

Birch Gun skidded around, almost scratching the perfect floor. "UE 57!"

"Quickly, we haven't much time! Put me in your crew compartment! We have to go! They'll come!"

Birch Gun recovered from the bombardment of requests that hit him in the gun shield. He heaved up UE 57 and the cage and put her in his crew compartment. It wasn't comfy.

"Go! Onward!" she beckoned.

Birch Gun remained silent. He drove forward, pushing his engine to the max. His hull shook about, trialled by the excessively cumbersome that he had to carry. He went at about half the speed he should be going.

Tired of giving out orders that would not be fulfilled, UE 57 shook her gun. It ricocheted off each side of the slit in the gun shield.

"So, how'd you get out of there, anyway?" asked Birch Gun, strained. It was clear that he was under a lot of pressure.

"Oh. Well, while the bully ARL 44 and his Hellcat wannabes were being all mysterious like, the chain broke. I don't think anybody heard the noise of the cage clunking onto the ground, because everyone was being too cool to hear. Since the metal is light, I managed to hop outside of here without being seen. And now we're escaping!"

UE 57 had the delight of having the first shell's ring emanate through her metal body. She screamed. It was a HE shell, throwing shrapnel off everywhere.

Birch Gun came to a conclusion: he was being shot at by tank destroyers. He swiftly looked back to see two M8A1s firing at him with snub-nosed howitzers. Fortunately, none of them could shoot straight. UE 57 released a shell through the cage. The small shell chomped through the bar, going straight through the other side and into one of the M8A1's gun barrels. There was already a shell in the barrel. UE 57 stared as the tank's turret glided off the turret ring.

The last M8A1 drew out of the slit. Birch Gun swerved round a corner, racing into another corridor. His tracks roared as he abruptly stopped to avoid ramming into a tank in front of him. It was a huge brown tank with an American white star plastered onto it.

"Hey!" it bellowed. It was trying to take items out of its locker until Birch Gun appeared.

"Uh, sorry. Can you please move?"

"Sorry!" The tank drove back. Birch Gun discovered that he didn't have enough space to move forward still.

"A bit more?" Birch Gun requested, staying calm. The M8A1s would be here any time soon.

The tank smashed through some lockers behind it. She groaned with discomfort.

Birch Gun instantly drove forward. He was stopped again when he discovered that the hall was a dead end, leading into a locked door.

"Ugh!" squealed UE 57.

"Where are you going?" asked the tank.

"Um, we're running away from some rogue tank destroyers." Birch Gun replied. He swerved round.

"Wait…" the tank thought. "You're the artillery, aren't you? The one that sent Hellcat into a rage?"

"Yes…"

"You're quite popular with our class. Nobody liked Hellcat anyway. I'm M6 Heavy. You're Birch Gun, aren't you?" M6 Heavy had failed to notice UE 57.

"Uh, yes."

There was a rumble. UE 57's cage toppled over and the pieces fell onto the ground. UE 57 quickly turned around.

The tank destroyers appeared. M6 Heavy took a shell into her turret. The tank destroyers had expected Birch Gun to be hiding, but it wasn't the case. M6 Heavy looked angry.

"Oi!" she shouted. The M8A1 realised his mistake and was immediately responded with a ninety-millimetre shell in his frontal armour. He rolled back in pain. UE 57 delivered the final shot and it went into the hole that the ninety-millimetre shell created, completely destroying the tank. The other M8A1 looked shocked. He drove back and luckily had a shell bounce off him, flying into the wall.

"Hah!" M6 boomed, excitedly. "That'll teach 'em!"

Birch Gun was shocked. He had literally done nothing but drive and he somehow got out of that situation. He sighed with relief.

UE 57 fell off of Birch Gun. She beamed at him.

M6 Heavy looked at her. "Well, hello! What's your name?"

"UE 57." she replied.

M6 Heavy was gleeful. She had quickly forgotten about the conflict.

"Well, uh, we have to go." Birch Gun drove off. UE 57 followed him.

M6 Heavy went back to rummaging through her locker.

"Interesting tank, that." whispered Birch Gun as they were trailing off from the corridor.

"Yeah."

It seemed that UE 57 was hiding something.


	9. Physical Fear

UE 57 shrugged all of the dark thoughts away. She didn't have anything else on her mind except from the knowledge that the next lesson was P.E: physical education. The previous expeditions that the bullies had set to 'kidnap' her were futile; the attempts to send Birch Gun into the shrouded hideout had proven to be a mistake. ARL 44's forces had been wiped out by a plump, American heavy tank, along with UE 57 peppering her thin gun into his M8A1s…

She didn't particularly like P.E, but it was only a slight nuisance compared to the rest of the craziness in the school. She enjoyed the reaction lessons – the target shooting the most. Her accuracy was almost perfect; it was blighted by her ability to be inpatient in the worst of times. That was also partially why she was sent to the glorious Tank Academy… well, that's what the school website said. UE 57 just saw random shootings and inexplicable carnage. The teachers just didn't seem to do anything about _anything._

As she was driving alongside Birch Gun, she was thinking about the P.E lesson. Birch Gun had no idea what was coming for him: the first P.E lesson in his life, with absolutely NO shotgunning allowed. UE 57 felt like warning him, but she figured he would find out about the tragedy on his own.

Birch Gun blindly followed the small tank destroyer, who was going forward outside. Birch Gun was thinking about the rescue that he did, saving UE 57 from the clutches of the malevolent bullies. He could go on to be a hero; a paladin of the captured tanks! He could liberate the captured French of the German forces! Birch Gun could do anything... until he entered the sports field.

UE 57 watched the lush green field intently, the green swords being blown on by the determined wind. The sky was looming high above the huge green blotch, the white candy floss swimming in the bright sky. The radiating sun was being covered up by the clouds, as if it was like a spot being plastered with bright makeup. The playground was in the distance. Birch Gun spotted the same blur that he had seen before. It spun around on the grass, severing it, sending it into the air to glide. Her shiny tracks were swamped by the tiny blades clumping onto the belt.

Various war machines were gathering around the brown alien. Its turret was shaped with sleekness in mind, with another small turret stuck on top of it. The small turret stood out against the otherwise low turret. The small turret's gun was black and long, radiating fearsome waste. That thought would pop however when you see the big gun, the sun hugging it with its bright rays. A muzzle brake was fitted onto the end of the gun.

The front of the turret was angled with a glassy surface which emanated shininess. In the middle a small box was fitted, with the main seventy-six millimetre gun sunk into the front of the box. On the top of the box was a small ring, the bottom engulfed in the box.

Birch Gun saw the tank, the metallic spark of the tank bewildering him. He had never seen such angled armour before. But the armour looked so weak under all of that style. Birch Gun noticed a hatch on the upside of the tank's hull, and a small one at the back on the top of the turret. He didn't know how he saw that.

Birch Gun and UE 57 watched interestedly as the tank began his speech. UE 57 had been with this tank before.

"Greetings, tanks! Are we all ready for a round of P.E?"

The light tank was met with a series of cheers. UE 57 had noted before that the majority of the tanks here loved P.E. She understood why: it was fun to them.

Birch Gun watched quizzically as the teacher explained what they were going to do in the lesson. He didn't know who this teacher was, but he seemed quite exuberant. Birch Gun was met with fresh air after thinking about the dark Leopard 1 and those bullies. Hopefully he wouldn't have to see them again. Deep in his industrially-created metal heart, he knew that he would see that head-teacher and that other filth. Birch Gun was caught off guard when he experienced the shock of the teacher talking to him.

"New tank here, are you? What's your name?"

Birch Gun woke up. "Um, B-Birch Gun…" he murmured sheepishly.

The athletic tank seemed to look Birch Gun up and down, examining his interesting build. "A…" his voice trailed off rather quickly. He paused for a while.

Birch Gun feared the worst. All of the tanks were looking at him awkwardly, except the ebullient Panzer I C and UE 57. She was no longer a blur; just an ecstatic German light tank.

The tank began again. "An artillery, I see…" His turret nodded, because his gun was fixed in place. "I am T71, the Physical Education teacher. I hope you enjoy staying at this school!" He gleamed, with concealed scepticism.

Despite the reassurance that T71 wasn't out to get him, he was still uneasy. This was his first lesson of the school year, and he had been here for a few chaotic days.

"Today, we're going to do an accuracy test." T71's turret pointed over to the metal targets stuck in the middle of the field. Birch Gun was astounded to how he hadn't seen that. "We'll have all different tank classes lining up for a specific target, please…"

The tanks got their engines raring to move. Birch Gun heard the grumble of the powerful engines chugging away.

T71 instructed where the tanks should go, transforming the rabble into a neatly formed line. Birch Gun was left there, feeling awkward.

T71's brain was fizzled for a moment, taking a few seconds to acknowledge the lone tracked vehicle sitting there. "Oh, um… you… uh… can go over there." The brown star on the light tank shined as he turned his turret to point to the tank destroyers' line.

Birch Gun's engine shook as he got it ready, the heat radiating around it as he clumsily crushed the defenceless grass to drive over to the line of strong guns all excited to fire at the shell-resistant target.

A Marder II aimed at the target, attempting to get the bull's-eye. He pulled back as his gun released a strong pointy Armour-Piercing shell to drill itself into the target. The shell soared through the air, the wind being split as it determinedly met its mark. The Marder II cried in disappointment as the shell refused to hit the red target, bouncing off the top of the thick sheet of metal onto the grass. Birch Gun heard various miffed mumblings as the Marder II shambled to the back of the line.

Birch Gun looked in disgust as a T18 drove to the front, his cockiness being presented to the target in front of him. The T18, blinded by arrogance, did not notice that the insentient target did not care about how he loved to sealclub baby tanks. Birch Gun had seen this disgrace of a tank before when he a wee little Loyd Gun Carrier; he had loved it when a T18 was teamkilled by an enraged Cruiser Mk. I for being overly pompous. The T18 was not even a tank destroyer; it was an artillery. He was glad that he didn't have to work with those tanks in direct contact.

Birch Gun was getting side-tracked. He had also known that T18 was a tier 2; what was he doing in this part of Tank Academy? He assumed that he was too 'amazing' to be in the younglings' group. Birch Gun watched with extreme boredom as the T18's seventy-five millimetre shell almost knocked the target over. The armoured box drove back smugly as the next tank went up, noticing the black splatter on the target.

Birch Gun really wanted to propel a beautifully feeble shell in the T18's side but his withering good will advised him against that decision. He watched as the next tank went up: it was UE 57! She focused with patience; Birch Gun saw it with her unmoving stance. Only the ding of shells smashing into targets ruined the perfect silence that the suspense of the skilful Frenchie amassed.

The forty-seven shell spun in the barrel and it rocketed out of the dark gun, slicing through the clear air. The sound was weak from UE 57's gun, but the penetration power was strong. The small shell speared into the thick metal like a lance drilling through a knight's armour. UE 57 almost bounced in the air with boisterous energy as she noticed that it almost hit the bulls-eye. She drove back and Birch Gun gave her a sheepish well done.

Birch Gun's engine was shaking about like an erupting volcano when he rolled into position. He was considering whether to play by his instincts he learnt in the good old days as a Loyd Gun Carrier or playing like an actual artillery unit. He knew nothing except the blunderbuss, the art of the maximum damage potential. His wheels whirred as his tracks roared, lopping the grass off the soft ground. The Marder II looked in horror as Birch Gun let the big shell exit his stubby gun, smashing into the target with incredible force. Birch Gun thought high of himself, until he discovered that the T18 did more damage with him.

Also, T71 was looking at him with shock. Birch Gun's wheels winded backwards in embarrassment. He had accidentally exhibited his obvious weakness to the whole line of tank destroyers and more importantly: UE 57. Birch Gun wanted to impress her for the sole reason to make UE 57 think that Birch Gun wasn't a weakling. Now Birch Gun questioned his whole existence.

Birch Gun thought about random things as the lesson went on fast forward: Marder II failing again, T18 being triumphant again, Birch Gun wanting to smack his gun off and shove it up his invisible exhaust pipe. UE 57 just being normal, and Birch Gun cowering behind the target.

* * *

"That was a great lesson!" exclaimed T71, in a satisfied rave. He was met with content rumblings from exhausted engines.

"Chi-Nu Kai, amazing job!" Chi-Nu Kai would blush if she was not a tank.

"Thanks, sir!" Chi-Nu Kai replied, pleased with herself.

"T18, you did great!" T71 praised him as if it was normal. Birch Gun heard T18 mumble great words of consistent cockiness.

"T-28, your accuracy came on with that new gun you were talking about!"

T-28's new gun almost sparkled in the sunlight. It was slender, and it carried a lot of repetitive power. T-28 admired it, and he was clearly proud.

"OK guys, you can go off to break!" T71 yelled, and the various tanks scattered in all directions. Birch Gun started to move, but T71 ushered him to come back.

Birch Gun was quite petrified when he heard the inevitable call from the light tank; almost blasting a hole through the target (at least he thought that's what happened) was probably a bad thing to do. Also, hiding behind the target that the other tanks were firing at was probably a really stupid idea. Birch Gun reminded the light bulbs in his head to never work again.

"Uhh, Birch Gun…" T71 spoke quietly. "About the thing you did today…"

Birch Gun expected the worst. He quivered with apprehension. Was T71 going to bring a Waffenträger auf E 100 in to discipline him or something? He had heard terrible tales of those mutated creatures on the tank forum he regularly visited.

"At Tank Academy, students are expected to stick by the rules and fire at the target from behind the line." T71 spoke rather sternly, which shook Birch Gun's hull a bit. "Not following these strict rules will end up in a punishment. Since it's your first time attending a P.E lesson at this school, I'll let it go this time. But don't let it happen again, okay?"

"O-okay…" Birch Gun uttered, voice barely audible.

"Good. You can go now." T71 dismissed him, and within a few seconds, Birch Gun was preparing his engine to go once again.

"_My shotgunning strategy…"_ he thought as he entered the hall. He was shaking in fear; would he have to abolish his technique that never failed to not work? Birch Gun slowly drove down the corridor, wanting to cry oil.


	10. Tank Fractions

Birch Gun had been considering what T71 had been saying for quite some time. His shotgun strategy had not been appealing to his P.E teacher, who insisted on firing behind the white line that was pasted onto the muddy grass. How was he supposed to know that? Birch Gun's angry engine released exasperated, darkened fumes as he drove off in a huff. The black smoke corrupted the air, but Birch Gun inevitably did not care as he was letting his engine cough more of the gasses out. He stopped when he saw UE 57 in the distance, talking to a big heavy tank. There was a hefty hole in his side, which reminded Birch Gun of something.

ARL 44! Birch Gun instantly picked up speed, his weak engine working hard to push more exhausted fumes out. His gun rattled as he saw the hulk speak to the minuscule tank destroyer. Birch Gun noticed that he wasn't bullying her, but he would soon. Birch Gun donned his invisible cape and, like a hero, he went off to save the fair maiden who stood before the big, evil dragon. His campaign raged on as the assault to rescue the defenceless tank destroyer became more serious.

ARL 44's words must've been poison. She was jittering in extreme pain! ARL 44's oily breath must've made her engine melt, and the acid was destroying her. Birch Gun skidded on the shiny floor. Birch Gun's tracks groaned as his hull spun round in a disfigured circle, causing the floor to scream in agony, causing a large screech. ARL 44's turret turned towards the British knight, and he yelped. Birch Gun drove over to ARL 44 with an unbreakable wall of tough sayings.

"OI!" Birch Gun yelled. The power in his voice almost shook the bolts in his hull.

"U-ugh…" ARL 44 groaned. He promptly took Birch Gun's track and dragged him into an open room behind him. He closed the door.

UE 57 looked at the text plastered onto the door: Detention. She was instantly met by a wave of worry, and she slowly drove into the door to open it.

Birch Gun was met with darkness as he was forced into the room. The lights turned on and he was met with a flash of white light, making him drive back into a table. The table fell and he rammed against a table leg.

Birch Gun was tempted to throw a shot into the French behemoth that was shuddering apprehensively over him… wait, why is he shaking?

ARL 44's French accent was wobbly. He forced himself to speak normally, and he pressed his long 90mm barrel into Birch Gun's gun shield. "You listen here…" he spoke with a chilly voice. "This is my only chance, so prance off like the little bunny you are and leave everyone alone…" ARL 44 emphasised the word 'chance'.

Birch Gun knew that under that French steel, this heavy tank was nothing more than a chicken, with his white flag ready to hold up whenever a conflict got tough. The white flag was tattered and covered in his painfully extracted oil; he had written down the number of times that the white flag didn't work.

But he was curious to what this chance was, so he left his guard down and spoke with hostility and less insulting words than he normally would've. "What chance?"

ARL 44 contemplated whether he should tell the evil artillery his thoughts. He decided not to, and he dismissed him with stern words. Birch Gun didn't like being talked to like a misbehaving dog, and ARL 44 ended up with a black stain on his stellar armour. Birch Gun hastily made his way out of the classroom as ARL 44's fuel tanks almost went ablaze with rage.

"Uh, h-hey UE 57!" spoke Birch Gun, with a sheepish tone.

"Hi, Birch Gun!" she laughed happily. "You know what our next lesson is, right?"

Birch Gun's slow gun shield knocked about left and right. "Can you just take us there, p-please?"

"Okay!" Her tracks spun as she drove off, clearly satisfied with Birch Gun's performance. She knew something that Birch Gun didn't.

ARL 44 didn't come out of that classroom. He was needed in there anyway; he was a full time worker in that box of boredom.

* * *

Birch Gun instantly saw dullness as he followed after the tanks streaming into the room. UE 57 was riding by him. He entered a spacious room with lots of desks… and numbers. A large, Russian tank was at the back of the classroom, his engine roaring, painting smoke on the whiteboard beside him. Two huge cupolas were on his turret, a tiny machine gun glancing up and down interestedly. This tank's turret was very tall, more cupolas dotted on the tank. Another machine gun was on one of the turrets. A star was tattooed onto the barrel of the gun, emanating power. Or… it was a fake tattoo.

"Sit down please, students." Birch Gun heard a boring voice emit from the turret of the tank. He took a seat at the edge of the classroom, a large window to the side of him, letting him look into the hall.

Birch Gun spotted familiar faces; UE 57 was probably somewhere, Panzer I C was a few seats away from him to the left, Churchill Gun Carrier was next to him…? Why was Churchill Gun Carrier in his class?

He decided not to disturb him, because he was falling asleep. Birch Gun continued to scan the room, seeing some American medium tanks, the 'Chi-Nu Kai' that was praised in the P.E lesson, and Matilda? Was that her name? Whatever her name was, she had her turret pointed at that T18, another tank that shouldn't be in this class. Birch Gun questioned the teachers' intelligence.

The teacher tank began to speak. "Today, we will be adding fractions…" The tank spoke with a lifeless voice, which didn't help the overall image of itself looking dead already. It didn't even notice Birch Gun, the new and uninformed student... What a teacher!

Birch Gun stuck his gun up in the air, which was easy for him to do because he was an artillery. "Um, sir…"

"Do not interrupt me." He was turned towards the whiteboard writing gibberish down, such as a three over a line over a five and various other numbers. He stopped to acknowledge the tank that interrupted his interestingly vast and educational speech. He almost yelped when he saw a small gun that was cut into the middle of a curved gun shield. On the side was a symbol. He didn't know how to address this rebel and how to tell him off.

"You… What's your name?

Birch Gun saw the big tank speaking to him. "Um, B-Birch Gun…"

Birch Gun noticed that he was puzzled upon hearing his name, so he elaborated. "I'm an artillery…"

Birch Gun had to say no more. Suddenly the whole classroom except a few tanks became uneasy. They were in shock of the gun carrier; why was it in their classroom? UE 57 watched as his friend was shamed by the overall reputation of artillery at the school.

"Well… I am KV-5." His thick Russian accent confused the artillery. KV-5 began to work on the whiteboard again.

"First off…" he began drearily. "We will add fractions with the same denominator." KV-5 continued to write on the whiteboard. "When you add three over five with three over five, what do you get?"

Birch Gun felt drowsiness. He didn't really want to learn how to add fractions with the same denominator. What is this, a school? He just saw it as an arena, with slight amounts of learning involved. His gun slipped down as his engine began to stop wheezing… he fell asleep…

* * *

"HOW DARE YOU, YOUNG TANK!" Birch Gun woke up to a lumbering KV-5 casting a dark shadow over him. The machine guns on the cupolas were rattling with anger. "You cannot fall asleep in my lesson!" KV-5 boomed at Birch Gun. The explosion of anger almost ripped his gun shield off.

"Since you were listening so much, um…" His voice trailed off rather quickly. Birch Gun suspected that he had forgotten his name. Birch Gun was slightly annoyed.

"You can answer some questions!" KV-5 spoke in such a way that it seemed he discovered gravity, or made the first armour piercing shell ever. He cleared his ammunition compartment. "What is HE shell plus thinly armoured artillery?"

Birch Gun didn't particularly like this question; in fact, it made him sweat a bit. "U-um, dead artillery?"

"No, it depends on the gun. Why didn't you ask what the calibre of the shell was, or the velocity of the shell, or the armour of the artillery and if it was angled or sloped?"

Birch Gun heard snooty sniggering from behind him. He detected it was the pompous Matilda.

"Sir, can I answer the question?" inquired Matilda, with a heart of gold. Birch Gun's engine let off exasperated smoke.

"Yes you can, Matilda. What is the answer?" KV-5 spoke softly.

"Well, assuming the calibre of the shell is seventy five millimetres, and the velocity is at nine hundred and forty five metres per second hitting at 30 millimetres, angled at 19 degrees and sloped at 10 degrees, it would do about two hundred damage!

Birch Gun thought of the numbers she pulled out of her exhaust pipe. She was guessing, but KV-5 bought it anyway, firing a satisfied praise at her and scowling Birch Gun for failing.

Birch Gun felt his gun shield warm up. Maybe it would melt in embarrassment. He almost could feel the molten metal turn into ashamed mercury and splat onto the ground, turning Birch Gun into a gun shield-less nobody. His thoughts went into nothing when KV-5 asked him another flustered question. He had a picture on the board with a TOG II. Two thirds of its slender hull was shaded out.

"How many parts of the TOG II are shaded out?"

Birch Gun inspected the tank; what was this? He focused on the great long shape of the tank and its boxy turret. A long gun was implanted in it.

"Um… uh…"

T18 interrupted his stuttering. His armour glinted in the sun that punched through the window. "Let me answer, sir!" He spoke pompously, much to the dismay of Matilda.

KV-5 groaned quietly. "Okay… what's the answer, T18?"

"Two thirds!" T18 looked at Matilda directly after, sneering evilly. Matilda almost exploded.

KV-5 nodded with his gun. "You're right… You know what; just go back to your seat…"

Birch Gun assumed he was being talked to, so he drove backwards into his seat.

* * *

The rest was a blur, and Birch Gun soon saw himself talking to UE 57 in the field.

Matilda came rolling in; a sort of strut. UE 57 sighed to herself as she watched the British medium tank come up to them. Birch Gun was ashamed to be of the same nationality as her.

Matilda was the first one to speak. "You're still with the artillery, UE 57? Hah!" Her turret shook as she laughed uncontrollably.

"Matilda, can you just go away? We're not a couple and we never will be." UE 57 spoke with controlled rage. "We're just friends…"

"Humph! Such a silly little tank destroyer. I'm going to go now; I'll see to you later." She spun on an axis and her engine rumbled as her tracks hacked as the grass, pushing herself forwards.

The duo watched as she drove off to see T18, who propelled a shell in her side forcefully. The high explosive shell met the sheet of spaced armour, and it ate the shell away, causing a small cluster of red and yellow. She ignored the ruffian and she drove into the academy.

"They don't like each other, do they?" Birch Gun asked.

"No… they've been fighting for months now. It all happened when T18 entered our classes on armour. They instantly didn't like each other because T18 started bragging about his armour, which Matilda was the king of doing before. Now they engage in verbal wars."

"Why is T18 in our classes, anyway? I thought he was tier II…"

"Well…" UE 57 began. "Apparently he is a really skilled tank, so he gets to be with us. His mother sent him here because he was sealclubbing too many noobs… whatever that means."

"Yeah… okay." Birch Gun was satisfied with her answer.

They drove off together to the sound of the air raid horn, which meant it was time for the next lesson. Birch Gun once again didn't know what it was, but UE 57 did. It wouldn't really mean anything for either of them.


	11. Upgrades and the Escape

Birch Gun had been waiting for this opportunity for ages: the first upgrade he could access! Upgrading your tank was serious business, so Birch Gun looked on the internet for medical advice.

His gun shield flashed as a new page appeared, giving him some new information he had not seen before. The page was white without any sort of formatting. It was displayed in boring blocks of text, but the boring blocks of text were supplying useful knowledge he wouldn't have found elsewhere.

The site was called Medikalinformatizon, which didn't bother Birch Gun in the slightest, despite the medically inaccurate spelling. This new engine would be his! He could just imagine the extra roar that his engine would fire out; the twenty horsepower making a world of difference, making him go at blindingly fast speeds. UE 57 would be dumbfounded as the artillery would rocket through the hallways, blasting past Churchill Gun Carrier and avoiding the nefarious Leopard 1.

Life as a Sexton II was sweet; you got the usual four hundred and sixty horsepower engine, which he didn't have for some reason… An industrial thought bubble rose out of his gun compartment. The storage of memories was jiggling about in his mind, skewing the question: why didn't he have the Sexton II engine? He vaguely remembered his mother telling him that he would be slower, but that was ages ago. In fact, Birch Gun knew that he had never put on a part for himself. The research was easy, but equipping the item? Nope.

Birch Gun left the page open and he hopped off his tank beanbag, the red velvet ball making a rather nice noise. Birch Gun drove down the stairs and greeted his mother, the Crusader 5.5-in SP. The hundred and forty millimetre gun turned towards him. She was cooking some sort of broth, which included the leftovers that the two tanks ate yesterday. She was stirring a saucepan with a metal spoon. Birch Gun heard the distinct sound of metal clanking in the saucepan. The captivating aroma breezed into the small artillery's gun, making him almost squeal with delight. Scrap metal Bolognese! What a treat!

"Mmm, that smells good!" Birch Gun rose his gun up in order to sniff more of the beautiful oily smell. He couldn't help it; it controlled him.

"Yes! Scrap metal Bolognese tonight! Instead of pasta, I got some little chains and put them in instead.

Birch Gun squealed like a mouse; so much in fact his gun shook like there was a continental drift in the world.

There was a pause. Crusader SP was happily whistling a song whilst cooking the dish; Birch Gun was deep in thought about the thing he wanted to ask his mother.

"Um… mum?" he asked. Crusader SP swung round, the large spoon dripping in oil. Birch Gun noted that she had an apron with the picture of a cog on it.

"I finally have enough experience to research something new…" Birch Gun took a deep breath. "Can you help me?"

Crusader SP turned round again and continued to swirl the meal with the spoon. "Your FV3805 dad did that for you, but unfortunately he can't anymore." She coughed. "I'll try and teach you how to do it. Surely, you should have learnt it at school?"

"Oh…uh…um…" Birch Gun stuttered. At the time, secretly playing a tank game called Blitz on his iPad was a great idea during the Science lesson in which the class was learning to fit on new parts.

He liked that Blitz game. It was strangely familiar to the world he lived in, with all of the same tanks. He had been going down the British SPG line. He was at the Sexton II, with about a thousand experience to go. In that Blitz game, putting new modules on was as easy as the press of a button. In the real world, he had to go in a garage and do that stuff…

Birch Gun would admit that he did splash a bit of his credits on the game, getting a shiny premium SPG. It was called the Sexton I, and while it wasn't particularly amazing, it did the job for crew training. He didn't like the fact that the tank didn't match any of the crews in the normal tanks…

"No…" Birch Gun continued after a hiatus of speech. "I wasn't taught that… you have to teach me…"

"Okay!" Crusader SP nodded with her large gun. "That's fine Birchy, I can teach you."

Birch Gun nodded. For some inexplicable reason, he thought it would be more work than that.

* * *

Birch Gun found himself in a big garage, which was painted by blackness. Unloved drops of water were gloomily smashing into the ground, causing the water to ripple into the concrete. Birch Gun's tracks ripped over the miniscule puddle. Birch Gun's track ate up the water, the liquid flying off his tracks soon after. Birch Gun met Crusader SP. The lights soon turned on, and Birch Gun's gun shield was met with light splashing onto it again. Birch Gun saw a workbench with all sorts of tools strewn across the messy wood.

"The lights don't often work in here…" Crusader SP sighed. "It's quite annoying. Anyway, let's get to work."

"Uh-huh…" Birch Gun replied. He was listening.

Crusader SP began with the lesson. "You would probably be taught the old way of upgrading in the school, where you have to engineer yourself and take the modules out. But now, there's a new way. It's pretty simple…

Crusader SP explained the whole process to Birch Gun, who barely understood. He went through it anyway, and he discovered the irritating fact – the engine was the same one on the Vickers Medium Mk. I. He had fitted it inside him perfectly – with help from Crusader SP. He felt the power emanate in him as the engine began to rumble for the first time. As he strutted outside of the garage, the smoke that emerged out of the engine was almost dripping with strength. Birch Gun realised the new kick in the engine; the surge in energy; that he was going at almost the same speed that he was going at before…

Birch Gun sighed. He would have figured out that a new engine on a slow tank wouldn't make it faster… He groaned, and he was going to let the internet engulf him as when he got up those stairs – eventually.

* * *

Birch Gun still had the images of vivid flashing screens with dancing Hellcat gifs in them. Every time he thought about something, the gif would deny his thoughts and send them into a bin. Then, the gif would take over, making Birch Gun's turret spin in circles. Birch Gun decided never to talk to T57 again after she had sent him that display. But that wasn't it… Birch Gun almost got ammo racked when he experienced the thing known as ARL V39. It was a terrible screamer of a terrible tank. Birch Gun's hull became cold and frozen with fear when he saw it; his tracks even locked up. It took him a few hours to recover.

He drove off to school, his wheels still partially frozen up by the ordeal he had the night before. It took him a lot of driving with his new engine to get him back in the mood. He stretched his turret a bit when he went into the main hallway. A dark green Matilda was next to the white Matilda that he knew (and didn't love). They were talking to each other. Matilda turned her turret to acknowledge the artillery, and so did the green one.

"Hello, Birch Gun!" began Matilda. "How is UE 57? Have you gone on a date yet?"

Birch Gun felt the evil cackling bounce off his gun shield. The British medium tank was laughing like a witch that had just cursed someone. The green one joined in as well. Once they were done, Matilda spoke again. "Birch Gun, meet my sister, Matilda Mk. IV. Or rather, Matilda IV." She scoffed and continued. "She was sent to Russia at a young age as part of the lend lease programme. She learnt the language and she basically became Russian herself."

"Okay… nice to meet you, Matilda IV."

"…That's unexpectedly nice of you, artillery." With that, the two drove off without any explanation. Birch Gun shook his turret in confusion, and he drove on. He didn't notice much difference at all in the engine. It was still complaining about the fact that it had to be used… Birch Gun thought about the next tank he was going to be. He knew its name was Bishop, and that it was based on a Valentine, a tank that Birch Gun admired indeed.

He kept driving down the hall; suddenly realising he had no idea where he was going. Birch Gun stopped to a halt, his tracks screeching in agony at the sudden disapproval of progress. He was really hoping that he could see a tank that he knew… anyone. UE 57 was normally waiting for him somewhere.

Birch Gun turned his turret towards the exit, his thoughts bouncing about in his tank brain. They were not making much sense at all, except for the process of a green blur smashing into him. His tracks screeched as they were forced backwards. Birch Gun was smashed in the side, and that reminded him of the pain was in… the M18 Hellcat's shot that had gone in his side.

It took the green tank a few seconds to recognise the devilish artillery that she had ran into a few times before. She drove back, her engine working at the pace of a cheetah going at three times its normal speed. The pain that she was in didn't even compare to the artillery that was squealing like a disgruntled pig. Her turret faced to see the curved piece of metal that surrounded his gun. She took the few seconds of silence to scream. "YOU AGAIN, THIEF?! THIS IS THE LAST TIME! YOU STOLE MY POSSESSIONS AND NOW YOU'RE RAMMING INTO ME?! AAAAARGHHHHH!"

Birch Gun comprehended the clump of enraged gibberish that was thrown at him, but he decided to say nothing. Saying anything would only make the angry tank angrier… anyway, he was still in pain. The ram felt like an explosion to him, like an ELC AMX rushing towards him and sending a ninety millimetre shell his way.

The green tank was almost red with anger; if you touched her metal armour, you would be burnt. The steaming tank swung round and she drove off at a high speed. Birch Gun wouldn't be surprised if he heard another enraged scream.

Birch Gun clumsily started to drive again, but this time the other way. The SPG considered why the green tank was going down there in the first place… oh well. Birch Gun's wheels squeaked as his engine worked hard to push him forward… until he stopped for some reason. He tried to accelerate again, but he was going nowhere. That was because Leopard 1 (the head teacher) was in front of him, staring him down with the long gun. Birch Gun drove back without hesitating, preparing to face the roar of energy coming his way in the form of a shout. He made particular attention to stick to the ground; lest the tank bellow so much it would send Birch Gun flying away like a kite.

"YOUNG TANK, DIDN'T I TELL YOU BEFORE?" Leopard 1 spoke with such force that the energy provided from his shout would rival the explosion of a big volcano. "WHY ARE YOU NOT IN YOUR LESSON?"

"Well, um…" Birch Gun began, "It's because I-I don't know where to go…"

Leopard 1 held no sympathy in that big hull of his. Instead, he held ferocity, strictness and impoliteness, which was somehow justified because he was a teacher. "WELL, YOU SHOULD KNOW! DETENTION, NOW!"

Birch Gun's wheels were spinning before the main battle tank even began to speak, and it gave him enough power so he could get a boost. His engine caused him to rocket forward, sending him flying at a high speed. He swerved round a corner, into a classroom which was open. Birch Gun was lucky, because he coincidentally ended up in the lesson that he was supposed to be in.

Leopard 1 had no idea. Neither did the teacher that was doing the lesson… the tank just sort of processed the fact that they had a Birch Gun in their class, and the fact that it just rocketed into the class…


	12. Stats

Birch Gun found his gun shield being pounded by random words that were being fired out by the teacher. A sleek, green tank was teaching the class with bags of information. Birch Gun had been in this room for a few minutes, and he had learnt something about medium tanks. The teacher tank was speaking with trumpeting power, and it invigorated Birch Gun to have a smidge of interest. The tank had a circular turret, which to Birch Gun resembled a pancake. There was a long hundred millimetre gun that was showing itself to the class. It was sunk into the sturdy gun mantlet.

Sloped armour was presented at the front, with scratches of ugliness. Birch Gun thought about it for a moment. He thought that they were the marks of battle; shells that bounced off the armour in the unbearable heat of war. The tank noticed his glancing, and it solemnly spoke. The hammer that boomed in its voice was prevalent in the speech that it sent to Birch Gun.

"I see you are looking at my marks, yes?" The teacher spoke with a sense of authority. "They are medals of my glory days; the wars that I fought; the battles that I carried. I am Type 59, a Chinese medium tank... I teach strategies about medium tanks. I already know who you are. Your assault on the Hellcat put you in the Tank Academy news."

"Uh… okay…" Birch Gun replied. He didn't feel right in a class for medium tanks. The lucky thing was that he was in the right class. He didn't see any of his friends, but that was okay for the time being. He'd meet up with them later…

Birch Gun's turret turned to the left, and he saw a horror. He wished that he hadn't looked to the left after he saw the evil green tank, the tank that ruined his chances with happiness. He expected the ranting, but it never came. The green tank was fixated on watching Type 59 pointing to specific areas on a map with a long, cream gun. The map was tattered in certain places. Birch Gun thought it could've been used by Type 59 when she was in her battles.

Birch Gun looked at Type 59's hull, noticing some spots of rust that had accumulated in her years of fighting.

"Does she ever get repairs?" Birch Gun thought. The scratches, the rust, the hole in her upper glacis… Birch Gun had only just noticed that.

Interested, Birch Gun decided to secretly pull out his iPad and use his stat-checking app. The electronic pad was hidden under the table while Type 59 was talking, droning on about medium tank positions. He flashed the app up, and he checked the stats of the bold teacher.

Unicum? What the heck does that mean? Birch Gun put his iPad back into his crew compartment, pondering about the word. Was it even a word? Birch Gun guessed he'd ask his mum about the word later.

Birch Gun was particularly fond of the colour purple; but he didn't expect the colour to be splattered all around the tank's profile. He had always checked stats of tanks: most of the colours he saw were red, orange or yellow… but purple? Never!

Birch Gun waited for the end of the lesson; it was interesting, but none of the information that was collecting up in his tank brain he could make use out of.

Finally, the air raid siren blurted out the noise, and the lesson was over. Type 59 watched as the assorted colours of the river of tanks flowed out of her room. Birch Gun was among them, but his engine wasn't giving him justice. He finally got out of the hallway, letting the fresh air tickle his gun shield. He turned to see UE 57 talking to a pink and violet blob. Birch Gun focused himself in order to confirm that he was actually looking at a tank. When he did so, his tracks turned and the grass cried as he drove over it, sending the small green swords flying into the air.

UE 57 saw his arrival, and she turned to Birch Gun as he drove over to the duo. Birch Gun greeted her and inspected the interestingly bright vehicle. Floral patterns were track painted all over the tank. The tracks were a difference from the psychedelic tank, being a dull black, much like all of the other tanks. The tank had weird sloping, with a little machine gun turret on the hull. It would have been noticeable to any tank, but the floral pattern prevented it from being spotted easily. Even the small gun was splattered with paint.

"Hi, Birch Gun!" she spoke, full of glee. "I want you to meet my friend, Ram II!" She instantly presented Birch Gun to the tank, who was quivering. Birch Gun looked at his 'camo', and felt the need to ask—

"Yes, I k-know…" His voice shook as he spoke. "My camo is… crazy, to say the l-least. I think it l-looks nice..."

Birch Gun instantly noticed the stalling in his voice; the lag that plagued Birch Gun sometimes. Birch Gun, despite being disgusted by the outlandish camouflage that the American tank had, felt sort of sorry for him.

"Well…" Birch Gun began, slightly awkwardly. "I'm Birch Gun, lord of being scary."

"Why is that?" Ram II asked with genuine interest. Birch Gun noticed that nobody had been so interested to know what he had to say except UE 57 and Churchill Gun Carrier.

"Oh, it's because I'm an artillery." Birch Gun spoke the words, as if he was expecting a red fiery meteor of fright to smash onto Ram II, making him do 0-60 in a millisecond. However, the unexpected happened. Ram II almost seemed to sympathise with him.

"Ah…" Ram II laughed. "I have my own problems… it's a tank."

"Go on…"

"It's a tragedy… his name is ARL 44. A big French heavy tank with no sense of formality whatsoever, unlike actual French. He doesn't follow etiquette; he's just a mean bully. I hate him, I really do… but I can't do anything about him, except when my big brother M4 Sherman Jumbo is around." Ram II looked like he was about to cry.

"ARL 44? He used to bully UE 57 before I stepped in as the crusader of small tank destroyers." Birch Gun boomed. The booming was a bad idea however; for the nefarious ARL 44 was near, and as soon as he heard his name, he swung round and advanced on the trio.

Birch Gun felt a sense of vigilant authority telling his story to Ram II, and leaving him in awe of the artillery. It felt as if everything was going right. Perhaps now his stat page would change to purple now. He decided he would check his stats page immediately when he got home.

Birch Gun, UE 57 nor Ram II heard the rumbling behind them; the shockwaves bouncing into their steel. They would if they would stop talking, but they didn't, and the waves of speech overcome their situational awareness.

ARL 44 appeared behind the artillery, his laugh trumpeting across the field. Birch Gun almost jumped when he heard the familiar voice. He felt the gun ram into the back of his hull, and he heard the shots of the seventy-six millimetre gun and the penetrations. He heard the screams of ARL 44, and his extremely violent cursing, and his withdraw from the field.

Birch Gun looked at the tank that introduced himself as M4A3E2 Sherman Jumbo, or simply just M4 Sherman Jumbo, or even more simply Jumbo.

Birch Gun looked at the sloped armour, and then Birch Gun wished his armour was beautiful like Jumbo's. He thought that he had seen something like the M2 Medium in him, but he disregarded it.

"Did that foul beast hurt any of you?" Sherman Jumbo spoke like a superhero, his gun stuck high up in the air, emanating glorious power. The American accent was strong in him.

"No, Sherman! Thank you for saving us!" Ram II spoke with bursting happiness.

Birch Gun connected the things that they were saying to a bad action film, where the goody kills all of the baddies and he asks the distressed civilians if they are alright. Birch Gun felt like cheesiness was invading him. Heck, it was as if they were in a cheesy story or something! Birch Gun laughed at that thought. If he was in a story, he'd die. What would he do or say?

Birch Gun followed the other tanks back into the building – he didn't know where they were going, but he decided to follow them anyway.

* * *

Birch Gun's gun shield was flashing; the light of the computer monitor was bouncing off his armour. He was looking at the stats site, looking at the numbers. The numbers that were pasted onto the screen annoyed him; sixty-eight? "What sort of number is sixty-eight?" he thought with building tension. His gun shield could burst if he thought about it anymore.

Out of interest, he decided to look up UE 57's stats. What he saw was a mess of red, orange and yellow. It didn't seem that her stats were very consistent at all. The glare of the dark colours reminded him of his own colours, which made him worried. Did everyone have the same red? It seemed that apart from the Type 59 teacher, mostly everyone in the academy that he checked were red, orange or yellow.

Birch Gun had heard all of the bragging that Matilda and T18 had done to each other about their stats, so Birch Gun typed in T18's Tank ID, and the stats flashed up. Birch Gun was met with a new colour that he hadn't seen on the site before: green. It seemed that his page was a lush, green field of opportunity. The opportunity to brag and to argue with Matilda more about his stats. He had heard all of it before. It was like "My stats are better!" and then it was like "No they're not, mine are better!" and then they got into an even bigger war than before.

The calibre of the war was already large, but with every word that T18 spoke to Matilda, every uttering, every syllable made the verbal conflict grow larger. Leopard 1 had caught them trying to mutilate each other, and that made the crazy head teacher even crazier. UE 57 had been watching from a distance, and he told Birch Gun all about it, like the seventy-five millimetre HE shell splatter into Matilda's spaced armour.

It almost ended up with Matilda's gun stuck into her turret ring somehow. T18 would've made it happen. It was good that Leopard 1 was there, because T18 was working on it. Leopard 1 did his fair share of shouting and detention-sending, and then he went back to his office to work on more torture plans.

Birch Gun had done enough thinking. He hopped on his tank bed and he slept.


	13. Duelling

"Okay, class!" T71 yelled. "It's time for a battle!"

Birch Gun had not heard much of that word since he was at the Academy, and he didn't like it. He tensed up, his engine making a weird noise, somewhat resembling a disgruntled elephant.

It was a bright day, the sun shining like it always does at the time of year. Birch Gun was in yet another P.E lesson. He heard T71 talk with a flame of joy in his speech; he was clearly thrilled about something. Birch Gun stuck his gun upwards, looking at the clear blue sky, void of clouds. It was a beautiful day. However, Birch Gun would rather spend the beautiful days gazing at the clouds, or researching more about tanks, or playing Blitz on his iPad. He found that Blitz was a better game than Domination, another tank game on his electronic pad.

The grass on the field was rustling about like a swing being directed by the wind skyward, ascending into the open air. He looked forward, and saw Panzer I C. Her engine was shaking about with glee; the engine was on overdrive, ready for work. Birch Gun was met with a splatter of disgust when he saw the green tank next to her. He looked away and saw T71 speaking with uncontained excitement.

"I'm going to load y'all with fake shells, and you're going to go with a partner and fire at each other. The shells work in such a way that if you get hit by them, it makes a loud ding sound." T71 picked up a fake shell. It was pearl white in colour, and it looked like it was made out of some sort of plastic, or something. The sun granted it to glow with the power of light.

"These are what you are going to use. They are testing shells, designed to cause no harm. They do not have enough power to penetrate anything, provided you use them correctly." T71 turned his turret around, looking for somebody to come up. "Oh! Chi-Nu Kai, come up here." He ushered her with his gun.

Chi-Nu Kai looked nervous as she drove to the teacher, who wasn't much bigger than her. "Yes… sir?"

"Chi-Nu Kai, take this shell and load it in your gun. I'll help you."

Birch Gun was next to UE 57. They were whispering to each other about the snarky Matilda a few metres away from them. She was talking to Matilda IV. Birch Gun didn't know that a fourth model of the Matilda existed until a few days ago; it must be rare. He'd probably see a Valentine II soon, ha!

"This shell is of a seventy-five millimetre calibre, perfect for Chi-Nu-Kai!"

The class watched Chi-Nu Kai load the white shell. It occurred to Birch Gun that the rate that she loaded it was at an extortionately fast speed. He thought, "It must've taken hours of training for her to do that!"

"Okay, now shoot at me." T71 spoke. These training shells were sent to the school a day ago, and it made him excited to think of what he could for his P.E tests. He was certain that the shell would just bounce off whilst making a ding sound.

Chi-Nu Kai didn't pause, and she immediately let the white shell escape the barrel of her gun. There was a flash and a trumpeting sound, and the shell was in the air. It spun onto T71's hull, instantly flying off and onto the grass, crumpling it. With that, a dinging sound was emitted from the shell, indicating that T71 was hit by the shell.

T71 drove over to the shell, picking it up. "See? And now, you're going to use them. I ordered every single calibre, so all of you are covered." T71 pointed to a box, which was not there previously. It was black and had some text and a picture on it.

Birch Gun inspected the text. "TankingMaster Training Shells – perfect for school and home use! Hmm…"

"Oh! I've seen them before at my old school." UE 57 chimed in. "When I was a FT AC, I used them with my automatic cannon!"

"What – you had an automatic cannon?" Birch Gun asked.

"Yeah; an autoloader! When I used to do them tank battles, I ripped up those little… um, what were they called?"

"Sorry?" Birch Gun was listening to T71 ramble on about shells.

"Oh, I remember! I used to rip up those artillery; especially the Loyd Gun Carriages! One minute they were there, the next minute they were, ah, dead." UE 57 was drowning in explosion-induced nostalgia.

Birch Gun began to reminisce about the times when he was a mere Loyd GC, whacking enemies (and friendlies) in the turret with his gun. He'd be so successful, being shot up by T2 Mediums, VAE Type Bs, Hotchkiss H35s, Panzerjäger Is… you name it, Birch Gun was destroyed by it. There was only one time he was destroyed by a Renault FT AC, and that was in summer of… some year.

He was going around firing lovely shells at other tanks, making them succumb to the glory of the thirteen pounder gun. They would scream in pain as the beautiful shell drove into them, becoming an orange earthquake inside their tank. Birch Gun would steer away from them, because he was cool, and cool guys don't look at explosions. He discovered he was in Campinovka, a world of tent camping (or as he assumed) via overhearing words from some Panzer IIs in camo.

The Panzer IIs got destroyed after that, by a mysterious French tank. The old Birch Gun swung himself around to see a FT AC. It emptied a shot into Birch Gun, making him yell. He didn't fear however; a T82 was there to assist him. It was as if a drum was clobbered as a gush of the smoke rushed out of the T82's hundred-and-five millimetre howitzer, releasing a deadly shell. Luckily for the FT AC, the shell missed by a metre. The FT AC fired off a few shots towards the T82, and it ended up with a mushroom of destruction.

The seventeen pounder failed the aspiring artillery as a shell lined with desperation did not suffice. His popular (among his family) shotgun strategy had failed; and it ended up with a destroyed Loyd GC, courtesy of the French tank destroyer.

Birch Gun's memories popped out of his mind when the train ride to Nostalgiaville ended. UE 57 was looking up at T71, who was assigning tanks to fight each other. T71 called out UE 57's name, and Birch Gun looked at the partner she was going to duel. It was T18, the brown box, with a ferocious seventy-five millimetre gun stuck in it. Birch Gun sensed that she was doomed.

"Ram II, you will fight with AMX 40…" T71 recited the list that he was holding. Ram II shakily made his way over to the AMX 40. Then, a ferocious battle happened, through a pact of stuttering and incomprehensibly formed sentences from Ram II's side.

"Matilda, you'll battle with Marder II…" T71 continued to go down the list. Birch Gun heard evil cackling.

"OK… Birch Gun, you'll be battling Chi-Nu Kai." T71 looked at Birch Gun, and pointed him over to a specific spot on the field. Birch Gun saw Chi-Nu Kai, the…um… Birch Gun had no positive qualities to think about upon seeing her. Only that the gun looked like it could demolish a nice, tender tank (like a Birch Gun) with one shot.

Chi-Nu Kai already had her shells loaded. Birch Gun took his shells, and loaded them in the ammo rack. Birch Gun began to hear dings everywhere.

Chi-Nu Kai seemed a bit shocked upon seeing him. To her, battles were a matter of two factors: winning and fun. Chi-Nu Kai knew that fun was winning, and winning was fun. It didn't occur to her that the artillery was in front of her, not the other way around. Still, she was a crusader. An infallible knight, determined to beat the unknown terrors of the cruel world of tanks.

In Birch Gun's perspective, he was facing a girl who clearly knew what she was doing. The stance was right, the engine was ready, and the gun was rearing to fire. Birch Gun came to the dark conclusion: he would have to win by luck. Then, Birch Gun thought about why he was facing a medium tank in battle. It must've been the matchmaking; it had cursed him multiple times before in his life.

"Okay, um…" Birch Gun murmured. "Let's, um… battle, I guess."

Chi-Nu Kai was met with the same dose of awkwardness. "Okay… three, two, one… go."

Chi-Nu Kai instantly released a shot, but it dug into the grass. Birch Gun shambled about a bit, trying to get a clear shot on Chi-Nu Kai. Unfortunately for the SPG, she didn't stop moving, and she went round Birch Gun's back. Birch Gun instantly felt something in his back, and then a loud ding was sounded.

Birch Gun swerved round and saw the shell that had previously flown off his back. He looked at the Japanese medium tank that had defeated him with slight humiliation. It seemed that everyone was looking at their duel at that given time, or it looked like that to Birch Gun, at least. Chi-Nu Kai made nothing of it, considering she had probably been in the same situation a lot of times. Instead, she gave a sympathetic response, tinted with concealed pity.

"Um… good effort, B-Birch Gun!" Chi-Nu Kai spoke with a cloak of sheepish uncertainty, as if she was talking to an outcast, like a SPG… _oh wait…_

The dinging went on. Birch Gun looked around and saw UE 57 clobbering T18 in the mantlet with a load of small shells. He wanted to egg her on, but he knew that that would probably be the worst idea ever… but the best idea ever. He continued to glance around, and he saw the AMX 40 looking around with boredom. AMX 40 didn't know why he accepted Ram II's peace offer… maybe the floral patterns on that weird tank confused him and messed with his tank brain.

Birch Gun was watching Marder II laugh as Matilda screamed at the incessant dinging that occurred on her strong armour. Marder II didn't stop with one ding; he would run through all of his ammo in spite of the obnoxious Brit. Birch Gun felt obligated to laugh, but that was before the Japanese tank confronted him.

"Hey… umm… Birch Gun… you're the one who was talking to Ram II and M4 Sherman Jumbo, right?"

Birch Gun's gun shield appeared in front of her. "Uhh… yes…"

"Well, I'm sure you already know my name…会えてうれしいよ。, Birch Gun.

Birch Gun's turret almost spun around in confusion. "Sorry, but what?"

"Oh! It means 'glad to meet you'." Chi-Nu Kai replied. "Well, at least you know a bit of my language now."

Their conversation was interrupted with a loud 'pheep' sound. It ricocheted off the SPG's gun shield, making it rattle. Chi-Nu Kai instantly started to drive towards T71, who was beating up a whistle, making it screech like an angry mouse. Birch Gun followed her into the circle of tanks, their engines rumbling, deprived of rest.

Birch Gun looked at UE 57, who was feeling very triumphant over destroying T18, who was panting with exasperation intensely. Every rumble of his engine emitted tortured groans of when the little Renault destroyed him with every forty-seven millimetre shell. T18 thought he was so amazing, he loaded only one shell. Unfortunately for the casemate tank destroyer, the shell missed and UE 57 filled him full of ding sounds. It sounded like he was crying…

Matilda was so full of rage she would be hot to the touch because of the blazing anger that she was showing. Birch Gun thought that her gun barrel could melt if she got any angrier

"Good lesson, class!" T71 picked up one of the training shells, which was a hundred-and-five millimetre shell. It had a grey tip at the end. "In the next lesson, we can experiment with High Explosive shells!"

T18 was the only tank who didn't cheer, because he was already using HE, and he was sulking.

All of the tanks went, and to Birch Gun's amazement, he was not called out by T71. He just went into the building with no problems whatsoever. That Chi-Nu Kai character wasn't so bad… in fact, she was quite—

Birch Gun felt the full force of a tank ramming into him. He had to focus his view range in order to see the tank, and upon more inspection, it was the green tank… and it was raging.


	14. Ramming and the Internet

Birch Gun instantly regretted what he did. The green tank's turret slowly winded round to see Birch Gun's gun shield. The tank's turret almost went red. Birch Gun felt the heat on his curved gun shield; the tank was that angry. A blast of verbal abuse was shot into Birch Gun, making him wince slightly. A mountain of words unloaded on Birch Gun, almost crushing him in letters. He backed away slowly from the tank while it was spewing firing insults in every direction. The tank regained its senses – but not for long as its tracks turned and screeched. Birch Gun angled himself slightly as the green fireball savagely collided into him, making him spin slightly. The tank was not done however, as it went for another go at Birch Gun.

Birch Gun was expecting the worst, but there was a bang and the green tank's expedition was quickly halted, and the battering ram was instantly set into a spin, making it disoriented. Birch Gun looked behind him to see who put a shot into the green tank's tracks. A shock was sent through Birch Gun as his view range allowed him to see that Churchill Gun Carrier, the lumbering hulk of failed rusty steel had defended him valiantly with his gun. Birch Gun heard the green tank hurl various interestingly offensive expletives at the tank destroyer.

Churchill Gun Carrier's heroic moment was blackened out by a shout. The yell was low and it sounded like a Russian. Birch Gun saw a huge tank destroyer behind the Brit. He had seen it all, and he was preparing to speak.

"Break it up!" he bellowed. The tank rumbled as it moved and in doing so, it gave Birch Gun a chill.

"M5A1 Stuart, what are you doing?"

"Please, Mr. SU-152! The artillery and the big rusty gun thing attacked me!" M5A1 Stuart assumed that the Russian tank destroyer had not been watching the fight happen.

"No… um…" Mr. SU-152 stopped to take a glance at Birch Gun. He inspected him and decided what tank he was. "You rammed into Birch Gun and then you started to get angry at him, swearing at him. After, you began to ram him; unbeknownst to you, Churchill Gun Carrier came to Birch Gun's rescue. It was a nice thought, but you should have come to talk to a teacher."

M5A1 Stuart didn't want to hear any more; she got her track repaired and she zipped off, leaving the three tanks. Mr. SU-152's gun exploded with a boom and M5A1 Stuart did a full spin. Birch Gun gasped in astonishment as Mr. SU-152 drove slowly towards her. Churchill Gun Carrier turned to Birch Gun, wielding the mighty sword of explanation.

As Birch Gun was still staring at M5A1 Stuart and the clamp on her track, and how… Churchill Gun Carrier started to speak. "All of the teacher tanks are loaded with shells that are meant to take out tanks' tracks. They don't harm the tank; if they hit the tank's hull or turret, they bounce off."

"Okay… that explains a lot." Birch Gun replied. He saw Mr. SU-152 come back into the school through the entrance.

Mr. SU-152 instantly started speaking. "I know what you were doing Churchill Gun Carrier; it was a heroic act. But next time, you shouldn't get yourself involved with a gun. Okay?"

"Okay…"

Mr. SU-152 left, and it was just Birch Gun and Churchill Gun Carrier in the hallway.

* * *

Birch Gun looked at the screen: the text that T57 was putting through to Birch Gun on TankLive Instant Messager made Birch Gun wonder why he was still sane.

"How is life at SPG Academy?" Birch Gun typed, expecting an unintelligent answer.

"well, its okay. that T92 is always telling me off for something, even when i keep my gun down."

Birch Gun comprehended the sentence for a second, and then he got back to typing. "What sorts of things make him angry?"

"everything"

"ok…" Birch Gun replied. _Who needs grammar?_ he thought.

T57 didn't reply after that for some reason, so Birch Gun browsed the internet. He was still conscious about his winrate being at some low number… 45% or something? It didn't matter. All he wanted to have was a high winrate. He had seen the posters around the dark side of the school – the statpadding part of the school (only for tanks like T18) had things like, "HAVE HIGH WINS OR YOU'LL GET THE BIN!" or things like "WN8 is love, WN8 is life." The latter poster was drawn crudely with a purple crayon and green felt tips.

Birch Gun found a website that interested him very much: it was called 'getgoodstats'. The website was very professional looking, which impressed him significantly. Most of the stat sites he had visited contained unhealthy amounts of dancing Hellcat gifs. The mere sight of a Hellcat sent a tsunami of terror through Birch Gun's mind. That tank was the true cat of fear. Tiger I? Pshaw… Birch Gun hadn't even heard of it.

The getgoodstats website that Birch Gun was looking on told him incredibly amazing information. The website told him about an art known as sealclubbing. The young artillery knew nothing of this sport, so he dived deeper into the archives of the website to find out more.

As he was looking through the website, he saw a box inside a panel on the side. Upon closer inspection, Birch Gun saw that it was a T18, and that he was at the American tank destroyers section. Birch Gun at that moment discovered that there was a part for every kind of tank on the site. He opened a new window and went into the British self-propelled gun area.

The only thing that Birch Gun let out during this expedition of information was an interested "Hmm".

Birch Gun decided to go up through the lower SPGs first, starting at the Loyd Gun Carriage. He had his information loot bag ready (his brain). He was ready.

_The Loyd Gun Carriage, or simply known as the Loyd GC, is the tier two British SPG._

Birch Gun got barely one sentence in before he was thinking about tiers. _What's a tier?_ he thought quizzically. He had heard about something like this, but never in full detail. _We're just tanks, right? _Birch Gun had some thinking to do.

* * *

After a few hours of looking out of the window, spotting all of the tanks in the neighbourhood, Birch Gun decided it would be time to get off his flank and get some work done. He hadn't been given homework yet, which was good for him, because that meant he'd be able to research more about his kind.

Birch Gun hopped on his chair, switching the computer back on with one click. There was a flash, and all of the windows popped up. He got back to the Loyd GD page.

_First off, the tank has a large gun arc (like most British SPGs), making you able to hit targets easier over rocks, for example. However, this increases the time that it takes for the shell to travel, as it fires at a higher angle._

Birch Gun was falling asleep, so he decided to save the page for later. Reading about the Loyd Gun Carriage really wasn't as fun as he thought it'd be…zzz…

* * *

Birch Gun found himself to awake again, and with a long yawn, he certified that it was the weekend. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and the tanks were shooting…? Birch Gun threw the quilt off his bed (it was embroidered with little pictures of the FV304) and with such might, he roared and he threw himself off his bed. It was hard to see what was going on below on the street, thanks to his gun depression. He just about made out UE 57 shooting at something. Birch Gun decided to look at his computer later.

He quickly descended down the stairs, greeted Crusader SP and he was out. The fresh air was breezing against his gun shield, but that didn't concern him. His tracks growled as they devastated the once beautiful grass that his mum had been tending to for months. Green swords flew up skyward as they got slashed by Birch Gun's tracks. The forceful bangs were getting louder as Birch Gun got near to the conflict. Smoke rose up as UE 57 kept firing. Birch Gun eventually found out that UE 57 was firing at a tin can on a table that was in front of her, after some confusion.

Birch Gun saw that UE 57's finesse with her gun was outstanding. She hit the tin can every time, and every time she hit it, she would put another on the table. It seemed that she had an infinite number of tin cans to fire at. It made Birch Gun want to try, but he was in fear of his shotgunning temptation taking over him and making him blast the target straight up close… Birch Gun finally gave into the voice that was prompting him to say "Hey, UE 57! I want to try!"

"Hey, UE 57! I want to try!" Birch Gun had copied exactly what his voice had told him to say.

"Oh, okay!" she squeaked. "Well, there's a can already there, so you can fire from here."

Birch Gun got himself ready, but he was halted quickly. _Shotgun… shotgun… shotgun…_

Birch Gun shook the evil thoughts away and fired. A blast of white emitted out of his gun, and it decided to hit almost everywhere except… nowhere. The shell flew into oblivion, never to be seen again.

"RNGesus…" Birch Gun murmured. "That shell went absolutely nowhere…"

"Okay, my turn!" UE 57 prepared herself to fire at the target, focusing on the tin can with concentration. As expected, when the shell spun out of her barrel, it went straight through the tin can, making it stagger on the table slightly before dropping down to its metallic death below.

As UE 57 got Birch Gun's target ready, the ghostly voice in his head was creeping back to him. _Shotgun… shotgun… shotgun…_

"Okay, Birch Gun! You can fire again!" UE 57 called out to Birch Gun, who was stuck in a cave of unnaturally deep thinking.

"Huh? Oh, okay." Birch Gun swivelled round to fire at the can. However, the voice was also swivelling – round his brain. Birch Gun couldn't resist it anymore! His wheels screeched as his tracks almost broke at the speed he was going at. The shell was released, and there was an explosion (barely bigger than UE 57's explosion with her shell). The can didn't know what to do, so it took the easy option and it became a bomb of razor sharp metal pieces gliding everywhere. Birch Gun rammed into the table, mashing it into a piece of useless plastic.

Birch Gun slid on the grass, making him spin round into a tree. A few green leaves released themselves from the tree, falling onto his gun shield. UE 57 looked at the destruction that Birch Gun caused. The grass was shredded by his tracks, the table was in bits, and a piece of the sharp metal had hit a bird, causing it to become a red blot spiralling downward onto the ground. UE 57 looked at the marks on the ground that the high-explosive shell had caused.

"Birch Gun…" UE 57 spoke slowly as Birch Gun was removing himself from the tree's trunk.

Birch Gun returned to UE 57, his front half being a bit battered by forcefully slamming into a tree.

"That was AWESOME!" UE 57 shouted, her screechy voice almost breaking Birch Gun's everything. After he recovered, he was just about to say something, but UE 57 spoke first.

"However, I think you have a serious problem. Good thing you're not American or German, otherwise that could've turned out differently..."

Birch Gun felt sad. He tried to redeem his happiness with one question. "But it was still awesome, right?"

UE 57 laughed. "Yeah."


	15. Birch Gun Goes to Therapy

Birch Gun found himself in a room with lots of weird ornaments and a painting that looked like it was from the middle ages. UE 57 had talked to his mum about using himself as a mobile missile platform after the defeat of the tin can. After that, UE 57 mysteriously disappeared somewhere, saying she was off to 'visit a friend'. Birch Gun didn't make much of it, assuming that it wouldn't end up with her getting assaulted and thrown into a deep pit. Birch Gun laughed at the thought: it's so absurd, it could probably happen.

After sitting in the room for about twenty minutes, Birch Gun asked his mum if they could go. She quickly said no, and then that was that. Crusader SP did not give up, despite the resistance that Birch Gun had shown to her. Birch Gun even threatened to fire, but Crusader SP knew that he did not have any shells loaded. Birch Gun had been told that this was 'therapy', but to the young artillery, it seemed like 'boredom'.

After ages (only about five minutes after) Birch Gun's name was called. The two artillery got off the seats and went into the room where an AMX 50 100 was poking out of the door. Birch Gun had only seen this vehicle before in a dream, where it destroyed him rather easily. He thought it was a fake tank.

Birch Gun and Crusader SP entered the room, where the AMX 50 100 was sitting on a chair. It instructed Birch Gun to sit on the seat perpendicular to it, which is what Birch Gun did – albeit, slowly.

"Good afternoon, Birch Gun." The tank spoke softly, which made Birch Gun a bit uneasy.

Crusader SP prompted him to say hello, to which he slightly mumbled out a faint "hello."

"My name is Dr. Da Silva, and I am a therapist here at Tankville Therapist Clinic." He spoke with a heavy French accent, which made him a bit hard to understand for Birch Gun. Crusader SP didn't particularly have an easy time figuring out what he said as well. "As I understand here, you are at our clinic because you have an obsession with using yourself as a tank destroyer." He readjusted his glasses (that he had for some reason, because he is a tank and tanks don't have eyes) and spoke again. "This is a common problem with the British artillery line, starting with the Carden Loyd Gun Ca—"

"I have no such problem…" Birch Gun murmured, voice barely audible. "I just like to shotgun things, that's all…"

"Your mother here says that it is an obsession." The Doctor replied with clarity. "We can help you, Mr. Gun. This problem will dissipate after a while – if you just stick with us." Dr. Da Silva's choice of words scared Birch Gun.

"Fine…" Birch Gun sighed. In that time when he ruthlessly ate that table with his high explosive shell, he saw the quivering of UE 57; the fear of imminent death. It would be imminent if he kept going on up until the high tiers, where the guns would be feared like the hammer of justice.

Even though the small tank destroyer said it was awesome, it resulted in the little tank having a fear of large destruction (which is quite impractical, considering that she is a tank). The moment that the boom happened, if you were looking at UE 57, you'd see her worry being acted out in the form of shaking of a magnitude that would rival an earthquake.

And so, Dr. Da Silva, Crusader SP and Birch Gun stayed in that room for a while, talking about things that wouldn't mean anything to anyone. Birch Gun kept giving meaningless answers to meaningful questions while Crusader SP sighed.

* * *

UE 57 had absolutely no idea where the artillery was, so she stayed inside her small home, studying for school. UE 57 hated to do all of this studying rubbish, but the teacher had warned her she'd be in detention for life if she didn't do her homework. That teacher was the science teacher. Science was one of her best subjects, so she aspired to get really good at it and maybe even become a scientist in later life.

Ionic bonding? What's that supposed to mean? It was the same result as when KV-5 forced her to do algebra: confusion. _Apparently all of this schoolwork was meant to place us into a good job, but all I see is a puzzle. _she thought. UE 57 had had enough of this, and with that, she put down the book called 'Science 4 Tank Destroyers' and she hopped onto her bed, feeling the springs resist her weight. The bed was extra comfy; specifically made for a UE 57. She stared out of her window, seeing the big white ball in the dark blue sky. The moonlight that seeped into her room was comforting; it made her forget she had to hand in her homework tomorrow to avoid detention.

The next day when she woke up, the sun was shining mercilessly, preventing the French tank from even getting her optics focused. She tried, but to no avail. The sun was determined to blind her and stop her getting out of bed. UE 57 was perfectly fine with that; she'd just lie in her bed, letting the blazing sun warm her up until her mother forced her out of bed. She was in bliss; until she remembered that it was a school day, and that her homework wasn't done. She swiftly whizzed out of her bed, skidding on the carpet floor. The homework had only one question left, and it was 'what would happen if Na and Cl bonded together'. The question didn't make much sense to her, so she just scribbled in some random letters and hoped for the best.

UE 57 took the paper and she hastily stuffed it in her brown bag. Her tracks spun as she drove down the stairs, making a bumpy journey. After hitting the bottom floor, it took her a few seconds to recover.

There was a tank working on the workplace, dicing apples with a bayonet. UE 57 called the tank and it turned round, greeting her. This Nashorn was her relatively young mother, who was paired with an AMX AC mle. 46, who was currently working in an office, typing up things about rubber band snapping statistics. UE 57's family weren't the wealthiest; working at a rubber band company typing out statistics for random things didn't exactly earn them a lot of money. Nashorn was employed with a job that didn't earn them any money, but just gratification in life: taking care of UE 57.

"Well, I guess I'm off to school." UE 57 began. "Bye!"

With that, she drove out of the building, going out into the road. As she had seen every day, the small camouflaged American thing that looked like a tank destroyer was out as well, driving off to Self-Propelled Gun Academy. She had wondered if whether Birch Gun and that tank had ever met. If so, it'd probably end up with a lot of...

UE 57 drove on, thinking about all sorts of things. Birch Gun would be out for school later, so she never expected him to drive out on time. As her wheels spun and her tracks kicked away dust on the pavement, she thought about ionic bonding, a thing that no tank would need to know unless they were a scientist. _Why are tanks learning about ionic bonding anyway? We're armoured fighting vehicles; we should be told how to fight… _she procrastinated for a while, even stopping to think about it, until she saw an interesting tank… a grey open-topped tank with a long seventy-five millimetre gun… She only saw the side of the tank, but it looked beautiful from that side anyway.

UE 57 was not shy; in fact, she was a bold tank, shielded by her never ending enthusiasm (most of the time). She went faster than before; pushing her weak engine to the absolute max. She was soon huffing and puffing, as if she had just run a marathon. She didn't fall down however; the undying flame in her spirit pressed her to go forward, to meet this tank. Her tracks went even faster than before – which ended up with her spiralling on the pavement.

UE 57 was dazed. She tried to make sense of this spinning world that she saw in front of her, but it refused to make sense. The tank waited for the vision to go back to normal before she started rolling again. Once her optics weren't betraying her anymore, she went forth.

From Ruskie UE 57 saw a load of Russian tanks stream through the town in groups. They were driving to Tank Academy, albeit choosing the long route. Amongst the Russian tanks, UE 57 spotted a M5A1 Stuart, a tank that she did not normally see, especially coming from Ruskie. UE 57 focused her optics on the trio of tanks that were driving along into Tank Academy: a T-34, a T-70 and the M5A1 Stuart. UE 57 recognised that tank as the one that Birch Gun was always talking about; the one that seemed to permanently be in a mood. UE 57 decided to pick another way to go, directly avoiding the light tank.

At last, the tank destroyer reached the gate of the school. She did wonder why Birch Gun wasn't at the gate by now, but she naively blamed it on the school virus that was going around. Its name was something that UE 57 couldn't remember, because its name was stupid. She decided to finally enter the school, going into the lobby and seeing the stone statue of Leopard 1 that was recently put in. She groaned at the sight of it.

With that, UE 57 went straight to her first lesson: science. She was not looking forward to learning more about bonding…

* * *

"OK, class!" the big tank called out. He was a large British tank destroyer who really didn't look like a tortoise, but he was called one anyway. "Today, we're going to detract from the norm and do some fun experiments." Tortoise called out. "But first, your homework."

UE 57 feared this the most: handing out the homework. She took out the paper and shakily, she slapped it on the table. Tortoise slowly turned, driving along the tables and picking every single piece of paper up. UE 57 sighed with relief when the tank passed past her without noticing any discrepancies. Tortoise went back to his table and he put the paper on the side.

UE 57 was hoping that Panzer I C was with her in the group, but she wasn't. Interestingly, the M5A1 Stuart was in front of her, talking to a Covenanter about 'some stupid artillery'. UE 57 instantly noticed the grey tank destroyer immediately after, who she identified to be the Marder II that failed in that P.E lesson. Even though he was probably a failure, he still looked like a tank that could sweep her off her tracks. She sat there thinking about that for a while until Tortoise instructed the class to take out their books. She did as she was told, but she decided to doodle instead of writing about chemical reactions.

"Add blah blah with blah blah and you get blah blah…" Tortoise's words were beginning to make absolutely no sense. UE 57 was better off drawing pictures of explosions and things. Tortoise just kept talking about making random boring things that UE 57 just simply did not care about… what was Na anyway? North America?

UE 57 finally decided to stop drawing pictures. She was actually going to try to listen, but it was hard because she was thinking about irrelevant things that didn't mean anything.

"Class, you've done well. I'm glad you enjoyed doing the chemical reactions." Tortoise said this as the air raid siren sounded, which woke UE 57 up from her dream. Unfortunately, Tortoise wasn't so happy with her for falling asleep in his lesson.

She eventually got out of that room, but only after getting a few extra sheets of homework – about ionic bonding… again.

* * *

"So, what have we deducted from this, Mr. Gun?" Dr. Da Silva was holding a lined notepad with a bunch of sentences on it. About thirty pages off the notepad were scrunched up and in the bin.

"Uh… that using myself as a shotgun is a bad idea?" Birch Gun replied. This was his second day at therapy. The Doctor had suggested his mum to let him take a day off for the appointment. Birch Gun didn't understand the appointment couldn't have been after school, but he didn't complain. He did eventually however, after being stuck in the same room for an hour, talking to some French autoloader tank that looked like it came from another planet.

"Very good. I'll expect to see you tomorrow, Mr. Gun and Miss. SP. Since it is the weekend tomorrow, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear you will not have your education taken away from you for another day."

"Yeah… great…" Birch Gun sighed.

Dr. Da Silva opened the door for them as they drove out, saying goodbye to them. After they had gone and the door was closed, he went back to eating his croissants that he had baked earlier in the morning.


	16. A Heated Argument

It was a good day for Birch Gun; he had gotten out of that therapy finally. Three days of torture; three days of wasted time. At least he had a free day off school; he really was getting sick of bumping into some tank and having it yell at him or being avoided like the plague. Strangely enough, UE 57 did not go out of the house at all in Birch Gun's perspective. He was reduced to just looking at Tankbook and occasionally messaging T57 about whatever the heck she wanted to talk about, including Birch Gun's opinion on what colour of gun varnish she should put on herself. Birch Gun thought it was all a bit silly; it ruined the beautiful camo that she had.

Birch Gun had suggested to use 'Luscious Green', because it looked so outlandish seeing T57 with a green shiny gun (she had sent him a picture of a selfie… whatever that was). Then she had asked Birch Gun to choose what colour track that she could put on herself. She insisted that the tracks were self-cleaning, despite Birch Gun's sceptical questions about the 'magical pink tracks that repelled dirt'.

Whilst talking to the eccentric little artillery, Birch Gun thought about upgrading himself. T57 had said that her mum bought her an extremely expensive machine that she drove into, automatically replacing her tracks with a different colour. Birch Gun had already researched the upgraded suspension Birch Gun Mk. II, which would not do much for him, except that it would allow him to mount the next gun, which was a pretty big thing…

Birch Gun then remembered that he was about to go to school, and that his mum was yelling at him in order to get him down from his room as to not be late. Birch Gun's thoughts popped as he put the backpack in his crew compartment, the dream-induced unconsciousness drifting away. Birch Gun went down the stairs, quickly going out of the door whilst saying hi and bye to his mum at the same time. Crusader SP sighed and she went back to watching her cooking TV show.

Birch Gun felt his tracks on the soft grass; the tracks that would soon be replaced. They turned and they ripped the grass off the ground. The grass flew about as Birch Gun drove over it, spotting the area where the tin can incident had happened. Birch Gun decided to not remind himself of that as he swerved onto the road, appreciating the view of the beautiful trees. The leaves were falling off of the trees, which was a sign of something: that summer was almost over, and with the end of summer autumn would come. Birch Gun thought about that; the great depression. Tired brown leaves always fell into his crew compartment in autumn; and it disoriented him. It tickled him as well.

Birch Gun was beginning to see Tank Academy in the distance. The usual tanks from Tracksberg on the left were going together, and so were the Russian tanks from Ruskie on the right. They were all going into the big Tank Academy, and so was Birch Gun. Birch Gun noted that UE 57 wasn't at the gate where they usually met; this was odd to him, because it was normal procedure ever since they became friends.

Birch Gun decided to go into the school anyway. He assumed that she was late, until the artillery also noted that UE 57 was never late. He shrugged it off (as tanks do) and he went into the building. There would be a bit of time before lessons start, so Birch Gun decided he'd start the day off with some good old fuel. Birch Gun drove to the cafeteria. Birch Gun entered a big hall with lots of clean and sparkly tables. There were tanks dotted around in the room, talking to friends or sipping their fuel that they could get for free from the machine that had 'FREE FUEL!' plastered on it.

Birch Gun drove over to the machine, but a cloud of despair showered him with wretched depression when he discovered that the machine was out of order, but he perked up when an equally big machine next to it was there, and it was called the 'Insta-Upgrade 3000'. Birch Gun almost squealed with happiness when he saw it. His tracks raced over to it, making a big cloud of dust appear.

Birch Gun pressed a big red button on the machine, making it emit a voice clip. "Insta-Upgrade 3000. Please enter your tank model to begin!"

Birch Gun put his gun on the touchpad, scrolling it along to find British SPGs. Excitedly, he pressed the button, and a list of British artillery appeared, including his own model! Birch Gun frantically smashed the screen, making the machine cough. An image of Birch Gun popped up, prompting the artillery to select his upgrade. He pressed Birch Gun Mk. II, and it asked him for his ID. Confused, Birch Gun put his whole gun into a circular socket that somehow matched his gun exactly.

The box verified the SPG, counting its experience. Birch Gun was tired of waiting; when the program asked him if it was the module he wanted to research and buy, Birch Gun nearly broke the screen with accelerated tapping. The machine asked him to stand in front on a pad. Birch Gun did so, and in completing the task, robotic arms appeared out of the machine with various shiny (and sharp) tools, which made Birch Gun a bit uneasy. The machine's arms stripped him of his tracks.

After that, the machine somehow whipped out a new set of tracks to put on the SPG. They were nicely fitted on by the machine, which shocked Birch Gun, because he thought the machine would do an epic fail and put the tracks on top of his gun. Birch Gun swerved round off the pad as the machine thanked him for using it.

Birch Gun felt like a new tank: just like he did when he got his new engine. Birch Gun was a powerful mustang; free to do as he pleases. There was only one problem that irked him: his turning speed was pretty much as the same it was before, and Birch Gun was not a mustang; he was a mere foal. With broken legs.

* * *

UE 57 had a chance – and it was now. Marder II was alone on the field, probably making a daisy chain or something – it didn't matter to UE 57. Her engine was overheating with anxiety; how would she approach the little tank destroyer? Well, Marder II was bigger than her; but that was not the point. UE 57 was too proud to admit that anything was happening; this was a test. UE 57 was testing to see if Marder II was up to the metal – ha ha, pun. UE 57 was a self-proclaimed master of puns.

UE 57 was going to see if Marder II was going to see her and spot her obvious beauty – the dazzling greatness that she held in her metal. Unfortunately for her, Marder II did not notice, because he was too busy making daisy chains. There was one on his gun, emanating flamboyant interest of daisy chains – Marder II wanted to make the world know that he liked daisy chains. Or at least, that was what UE 57 was dreaming of when she was watching him – he was in fact on his tracktop, reading about the glorious Marder 38 (t).

UE 57 gathered all of the confidence that was draining out of her back into her storage of confidence. It all blasted out and the tank destroyer strutted towards the German tank, who was preoccupied with learning about his potential future self. UE 57's wheels were going at an acceptably cool speed towards him; she was acting like a boss. Everything seemed to be going right; until a wild stone appeared and she unexpectedly threw herself over it.

UE 57 was a few metres away from the tank now; she was so close... UE 57 was thinking of how the conversation would go until her thoughts were invaded by an obnoxious noise that sounded like an air raid siren. It turned out to be the bell, and UE 57 recognised that noise as soon as it penetrated her tank brain, almost making it split in half. She recovered and then Marder II was gone, driving towards the school. UE 57 instantly realised that the chance that she had held so dearly to her was gone. UE 57 felt enraged for being so passive, and she dragged herself into the school. It took a lot of effort.

* * *

A few hours later, Birch Gun was looking down at the floor, being unable to eat his food. The pain in his tracks was here, and it was affecting him rather largely. Birch Gun had to break into his shiny new tracks. For some reason, UE 57 was not sitting with him, and so he had to go through the quest of breaking the tracks in himself without any moral support. They were chafing against his hull, and it was starting to hurt. The machine did a good job; it was just a thing that most of the tanks in the world went through.

He finally decided that he would be a crusader and so, he picked up his oil can, sipping it. The beautiful black liquid revitalised him, and he put it down, picking up his nuts and bolt crisps. They were yummy, and they made him forget about the pain. The cafeteria was beginning to fill up with all sorts of tanks, and the tables were being taken. As expected, Matilda II was cackling with Matilda IV, who was cackling as well – but with a Russian tint. They were probably talking about some tank that they teased earlier.

Birch Gun was intrigued. He decided to listen in on their conversation, since they were only sitting a table away.

Matilda laughed. "Do you remember that weird T-34 rip off that we saw earlier? Ha!"

"Oh, the Russian thing? Да, that was very funny!" Matilda IV went into a laughing fit, almost knocking over her lunch.

"It was definitely very timid. It started crying after I insulted its tiny little gun…" Matilda spoke triumphantly. "You could say my gun is weak, but I have a Littlejohn adapter, so shut up." The two tanks giggled like tier Is. Birch Gun sighed.

He looked to his other side, seeing the tanks contently eating their lunch. One was eating a burger, which made Birch Gun envious. He really wanted a burger.

Eventually, the artillery finished his lunch. He got up to go, driving off of the seat with his lunchbox, which had the picture of an FV304 on it. He left the room to go out, hopefully finding a friend to talk to.

Meanwhile, UE 57 was on the table behind the Marder II, the tank eating the burger. UE 57 was happy that Birch Gun somehow didn't notice her, so she could focus on talking to this tank destroyer. She finally decided to get some courage, and she marched forward (in a tank way), radiating power. She felt like a général d'armée, but she was equivalent to a soldat de seconde classe, which bogged down her ambitions to be good at life. She went on however, and with an awkward hi, the Marder II began to spurt out jumbled up words.

UE 57 looked at him blankly while he continued to pull random words out of nowhere and ram them into each other, creating abominations of speech. UE 57 was waiting for him to get some sense. He finally did, and they were able to have an intelligent conversation.

* * *

Birch Gun was feeling lonelier than ever before; UE 57 was gone again, and this time she wasn't abducted by bullies and cultists; she was just gone. With that, Birch Gun sat on the bench he had been sitting on for the last few minutes, and he did things on his iPad. TankLive Instant Messager flashed up with a notification, and Birch Gun, with no interest in anything, opened the app. It was T57, and she was again ruining his optics with her incompetent text talk.

Birch Gun replied with hello, and he asked why she wasn't in a lesson.

"well, i managed to get into truble with the t92 fr havin informal unifrm… w/e tht means."

"What, did the gun varnish not work out? Did T92 not like your gun being neon green?"

"no, i thought he'd like it. thought he'd think itd be funky… lol"

"What colour were your tracks again?"

"hot pink"

"I guess that wasn't the right choice, then…" Birch Gun replied. He wanted to fling himself off the Himmelsdorf cliff.

"nope… gt any other colours i could tri?"

"How about…" Birch Gun thought for a second. "How about extremely vibrant yellow?"

"oh my SerB… thats a great idea! thx birch gun! xxx"

_xxx?_ Birch Gun wondered. _What does that mean? Oh well…_

He continued on with his iPad duties, playing Blitz. He had finally gotten something that was worth something: the Birch Gun. He didn't know why, but it seemed amazing to him; he could be a Birch Gun himself and be happier with life.

He was in the middle of a game. He had five kills, and he was in the midst of getting a Top Gun.

The M3 Lee drove over the ridge, seeking an easy kill for the artillery. He didn't seem to notice that he was critically damaged, full of holes. Birch Gun sniggered as he tapped a button, seeing the shell travel over to the medium tank, sending its two turrets into the air. The number next to BirchGun3's name went up by one, and it became a number of epic proportions: six. He felt epic, because he was epic. The shotgun strategy worked in this Blitz game, which was why Birch Gun played it.

The siren sounded, and Birch Gun saw tanks all around him leave. Birch Gun stuffed his iPad in the bag and he got up to go. His tracks turned and he set off into the classroom. He had art, which was a lesson he hadn't had before.

Birch Gun's attention was diverted from the building in front of him to a T67, who was talking to another T67. They seemed similar to him; Birch Gun thought he had seen them somewhere before. They were talking about something rather audibly, which forced Birch Gun to listen on in.

"The Cult of Artillery? Yes, it's all been set up. We're going to roast that artillery alive…" one of them spoke.

"Cool. Remember when the tiny thing disabled me? It set me back, it did…"

"Yup… and we must remember our fallen friend… WE WILL KILL THE ARTILLERY FOR OUR FALLEN ALLY!" With that, they rushed forward, screaming battle cries. "TO OUR EXTREMELY SECRET HEADQUARTERS IN THE ABANDONED ROOM IN THE TOP FLOOR OF THE SCHOOL!"

"YES!"

Birch Gun thought the conversation was all a bit silly, but he was interested, so he decided to follow them. As he was driving along, he thought about how specific the T67 was when he was announcing the whereabouts of his 'secret' headquarters. That just made him more intrigued to find this cult and their members.

As he was driving through, he went past M6 Heavy, who was appointed the task of being hall monitor. She was checking the lockers to see if there was any contraband in there, but there was none. Nobody seemed to carry shells in Tank Academy except the troublesome tanks. M6 carried five shells, and that was it. M6 thought it was a bit odd to see Birch Gun drive past her; the only areas that was past there was upstairs, and that was pretty much off limits. Leopard 1 had decided that keeping an extra floor that was being used was a bad idea, so he saved money by stopping the electricity bill for the top floor and therefore, the electricity. He also sold everything in the top floor.

This made the whole school cluttered with tanks that could've easily been on the top floor, but Leopard 1 was too much of a tightwad to care.

M6 decided that she would stay positioned there, waiting for Birch Gun to get back.

* * *

Birch Gun was driving up the stairs to the top floor. It was dark, and so he decided to switch the floodlights on. The beams of light appeared, and it made it much easier for Birch Gun to orienteer himself in the blackness. The only resolution to this sea of darkness was the knight of light slashing in from the small oval windows, kicking the black monster away. Birch Gun finally found the room that the T67s were talking about. The room from the outside was blank; as expected. Birch Gun was in a school.

He pounded on the door, and it didn't reciprocate by opening. He obtained a change of heart, and Birch Gun decided to knock on the door politely. As expected, there was no answer, and Birch Gun found himself to be getting rather angry.

Getting impatient, he decided to blast the door open with a shell. It exploded onto the wood, causing small wooden spears to fly out onto Birch Gun. Their penetration power was too inadequate to take down his six millimetres of armour, so the splinters just simply bounced off. Birch Gun felt great; he had finally bounced a target, apart from ARL 44 chipping his gun shield a few months back. He decided to ignore the fact that it was wood that bounced off him.

He entered the room, his floodlights filling the room with whiteness. The lights were useless however, because the room lights turned on and Birch Gun's track was shot off by a high calibre gun. There was a deep laugh, and the door closed.

Birch Gun attempted to move, but his track failed him. He realised he had foolishly fallen into a trap. Like a fly in a venus flytrap.

The laughing continued, and then the voice he had grown to hate so much was heard. "Ha ha ha… Birch Gun? Are you okay there?" It was ARL 44, and his mocking voice made Birch Gun angrier. He was a bit stupid for falling into the trap; the two T67s were the M8A1s from before!

"We have won! Birch Gun, do you not know how much you have delayed us?"

"…From w-what?" he worriedly replied.

"Isn't it obvious, SPG? From taking over this academy! The Leopard 1 is so naïve, he wouldn't know that there was a tank battle going on even if it was happening a metre away from him! We will build a new Tank Academy; a communist Tank Academy!"

Birch Gun was about to say something, but ARL 44 shushed him before he did. "And you, Birch Gun, will ruin our plans simply by existing!" He smashed his ninety millimetre gun onto a table, making it shake as if a judge had clobbered it with a gavel.

Birch Gun looked around; among ARL 44 he saw the two T67s, who were preparing a huge cauldron full of oil (for some reason) and a spit. The cauldron looked like it was fit just for a Birch Gun, which worried the artillery. The oil was as black as the night's sky. Birch Gun turned his turret, and he saw the M5A1 Stuart, the tank that had gone berserk on him on many occasions. She laughed, mocking Birch Gun. "Oh, I'm an artillery! Pew pew!"

"GRR!" Birch Gun finally snapped and he loaded his shell, preparing to divide the M5A1 Stuart into ten pieces with his high explosive shell. ARL 44 saw this, and a HE shell went into Birch Gun's gun, therefore disabling it and making the tank a liability on everything. He felt the pain rather quickly, and Birch Gun found he couldn't speak… because he was gagged.

A white cloth was over Birch Gun's smoking gun, therefore making him not able to speak at all. ARL 44 snorted, and he told the two T67s to load the artillery… whatever that meant. Above the cauldron was a spit, which was made crudely out of metal poles. Birch Gun heard a noise behind him. It was a sheet of corrugated metal. M5A1 Stuart put it behind the door.

Birch Gun's engine was shaking like a cat that was thrown into water now. Birch Gun was put over something, and the T67s were tasked with picking him up with the square under him. Birch Gun made muffled screams.

After a bit of fumbling, Birch Gun was put on the spit, where he shook about like a headless chicken. ARL 44 exclaimed that Birch Gun would be thrown into the burning cauldron of oil, and then he would be no more. Birch Gun thought about how some schooltanks could murder him like that. It shook him even more.

M5A1 Stuart chuckled. "Silly artillery… did you think you'd survive here? Tank Academy has an underworld, and that underworld is us! If you mess with us, then we will get you!"

Birch Gun said nothing… he couldn't say anything anyway. One of the T67s lit the oil on fire. The flames licked at the air, looking for a target to hug. They would be hugging a tank very soon…

"So, Birch Gun, how are you doing? Good, I'm assuming?" ARL 44 laughed some more. They were essentially torturing this little SPG, and they loved it. ARL 44 was not a good role model.

M5A1 Stuart felt it was kind of Birch Gun to let her go have his bag, and so M5A1 Stuart was on Birch Gun's iPad. "Ooo Birch Gun, who's this T57 person? Another artillery? So, it isn't UE 57, is it? Oh, what a nice picture… what's this? You suggested yellow tracks? Well, let me suggest something too…"

M5A1 started to use some colourful language in Chinese, and with a snort she sent the profanity off to T57. Birch Gun would have some explaining to do… oh wait, he'd be dead. Birch Gun reminded himself that.

"Alright T67s, lower the rope…" ARL 44 commanded.

Birch Gun was hoisted lower to the burning oil, which made him scream. He could feel the undying heat now. It was making him feel rather uncomfortable.

* * *

M6 was wondering; where was Birch Gun? She finally decided to stop staring at the lockers adjacent to her, getting herself up and driving off in the direction of the upper floor. She slowly drove forward while Birch Gun was close to getting roasted in the floor above. She was quite relaxed; she did not know that one of her hearty friends was close to being dropped in a cauldron of fiery oil. The heavy tank found the stairs ascending up to the top floor. Since there was no other way to go, she calmly drove up the stairs. M6 heard a weird noise upon going up there… it sounded like evil laughing.

M6 picked up her speed, finding a room which was the source of the noise. The tank looked in the window, but she saw closed curtains. M6 decided that this was an emergency, and so she rammed into the broken door, making it crash into the sheet of corrugated metal, falling on onto the ground. M5A1 noticed that her shield to block the door was rather bad, and she realised that mistake once 6 roared as she came in.

"Brûler, artillery! Brûler, chien! Mourir!" ARL 44 shouted. Birch Gun didn't understand what the tank was saying, so he continued to screech, but to not great effect. M6 noticed that he was almost swimming in a cauldron of burning oil, so she decided to help. ARL 44 noticed the American, swearing in French and firing off a shot towards her vigorously. It went straight through, and M6 felt a sharp pain in her hull front, where the ninety millimetre shell passed through her. She retaliated in a rage, sending off a shell into him. It hit his weak spot, which made him shout in pain. ARL 44 slowly drifted out of consciousness. M6 felt something hurting her at the back, which was M5A1 Stuart peppering her with a forty-seven millimetre gun. She decided to ignore the T67s, tending to the annoying little gnat behind her.

M6 growled, reversing back quickly onto M5A1 Stuart, making her yelp. She was smashed into the wall of the room, making her unable to move. Her wheels moved like a fast car, but to no effect. M6 kept bashing her into the wall, fuelled by vigilance and rage. M5A1 fired at the back of her turret, making her jump and move forward. M5A1 saw her chance, and she quickly raced out of the room, driving over the shattered door and the sheet of metal.

Birch Gun was almost going to do a scuba dive in the oil; which really wasn't his plan. He was still screaming like a disgruntled child who had their lollipop stolen from them, but it was getting louder.

M6 saw this, and she decided to fire at one of the T67s, going straight through and out of the other side. The T67 felt a burning pain inside it, and it quickly found out that its engine was struck, and it experienced what it felt like to be on fire. The answer was pretty obvious (pain) and T67 wasn't particularly interested in knowing anyway, but it happened for him regardless. He quickly faded, and the final T67 (with a small gun) was the only one left.

His thin gun tried to destroy M6, but it was unfortunately a lost battle. All it took for M6 was one shot, and he was hopping about like a demented hare. T67 tried to race off out of the room, but that gave M6 a shot at his side. M6 fired again into his track, penetrating it and getting stuck inside the tank. He began to cry. He was not the only tank in the room crying; Birch Gun was doing it as well.

M6 Heavy decided not to let the tank suffer, so another shell went in and out. T67 was now a wreck. Birch Gun was satisfied with that, but he wasn't satisfied with the fact that his new track felt like it was melting.

M6's wheels quickly spun to rush forward, and she did – faster than she had ever done before. She reached Birch Gun, who was on the verge of becoming a metal sundae. M6 pulled the cauldron away, sniffing at the loss of the high-octane fuel. She got Birch Gun off the spit, and he was mighty grateful for that. He would hug her if he could… but he was a tank.

"T-t-t-t-t-t-t…" Birch Gun decided to try speaking again. "T-thank you for saving me, M6 Heavy…"

"Pshaw… it was nothing. Just doing my duty, an' all."

Birch Gun found he couldn't speak properly. "W-what's your duty?"

"Uhh… umm… artillery savior."

"Really?" Birch Gun instantly filled up with hope; maybe he had a guardian angel to help him in the worst of situations!

"No bud, I'm just messing wit' ya, that's all." M6 chuckled.

"Oh…" The realisation that Birch Gun had was daunting, and it made him aghast. He thought again, and he decided that he was lucky that M6 was there.

"Well, yo ought to get back to class. I'm sure that your teacher will be lookin' for ya."

"Yes… great idea."

Birch Gun went to leave, his life permanently scarred by that experience. Hopefully there would be no more of that cult stuff…

M6 looked forward as Birch Gun left, proud of herself. Maybe she could be a ranger… whatever that is. A true patriot for the United States of America!

* * *

The art teacher was still wondering why 'the new tank' wasn't in her lesson. She looked around, waiting for some sort of explanation.

"STA-1, is this picture okay?" An excited tank held up a piece of paper with a lot of brush strokes on it. STA-1 took one look at it and said yes tiredly. All of the tier I tanks had given her turretache earlier with their screaming and shouting. She picked up her mug of oil, sipping it contently. At least she had one thing to look forward to in the day – drinking oil… all day. She was sort of an addict.

STA-1 looked around in her classroom and yet again she thought about the new tank. Was it the Spanish thing that she saw driving around everywhere? STA-1 thought about it for a second, but she disregarded it rather quickly. Surely she would've seen her in the art room by now – perhaps she wasn't doing art at all.

UE 57 was having exceptional fun painting a beautiful picture with Marder II – who was a great artist. The way that he controlled the silky brush – it was just captivating. It was a picture of a lush green field, with a few trees stationed high over the field, but just below the clouds. UE 57 decided to add her bit in; it was a shell hole. Marder II decided that he loved it, and he visually destroyed his painting by darkening the grass and adding shell holes everywhere. The leaves of the trees were painted over with the new dark and gloomy sky. The two tank destroyers laughed at the painting, and how they made it a picture of a battlefield.

Ram II was making an artistic masterpiece – as usual. He made a self-portrait, and he called it the Mona Ram II. Ram II was extremely good at art; he was a master.

STA-1 was impressed by Ram II's artistic talent, like normal. Pretty much everything was going on normally in the class – except that a certain artillery was missing.

The bell rung, and STA-1 was left in her class sipping her fifth mug of oil. She thought she would talk to Leopard 1 about the missing tank – as if he would do anything about it anyway.


	17. A New Family in Tankville

"Mamá, do we have to move?" The voice was very audible; the sky was blanketed in a black sheet, making it impossible to see. The moon was barely a help; the darkness had pretty much enveloped the moon, rendering its light useless to the three tanks that were slowly driving along a dusty path, surrounded by tall grasses.

"Yes, Cadence. Papá needed to get a new job – remember? It's only in this Ruskie place; not that far, is it?"

"We've been driving for three hours…" the small voice replied, withered by fatigue. She could barely see; the only light that was in the area was the floodlights that her mamá and papá had been supplying. She didn't have any lights of her own. Still, she drove along the dirty road, flicking away jagged stones with her tracks. The bits of rock bounded into the grass, never to be seen again.

"We'll be there soon; just hang on." the bigger voice was heard again. The light was showing nothing but road and grass.

Cadence sighed; was this the life she wanted? No… she was fine in her old school, being friends with a nice Panzerwagen 39. Would she find any Swiss tanks in this school? Probably not!

Her tracks were getting rough with all of the driving; she thought her wheels would stop moving and she'd spiral out on the track, her wheels too rigid to move at all. The whole journey had completely destroyed the graceful hygiene of her tracks; now they were splattered with brown mud that ruined the look of everything.

The bubble bath that she went in was pleasure to lie in: just about the right temperature, lots of bubbles, but not too many, and the new shampoo that she used made her tracks feel great. The terrible dilemma she had ruined her mood and her tracks: driving along a path for hours. Cadence would never ever drive again... until the next day.

"Where is Papá, anyway?" Cadence inquired, "Did he get stuck in a tanker of oil again?"

"No, Cadence. Don't talk about that; it wasn't a nice experience for him. He took the tank transporter."

"What? Why couldn't have we taken the transporter?"

"There were complications, dear." Mamá replied, and the conversation was over. Cadence continued to drive with stiff tracks, mumbling to herself.

The two continued to drive forward; Cadence pointing out that the stars were particularly bright that night.

"Maybe that's the sign of something…"

Cadence didn't know what she meant, and they drove on.

The sky was devoid of clouds, making it a beautiful night. The star shaped light bulbs filled the sky, all twinkling at different intervals. Cadence appreciated the stars, making her forget about the trip that was dragging on for hours.

* * *

Eventually, the two tanks reached their destination. Mamá's TankNav worked very well in making them go the longest way possible. Cadence almost threw a tantrum when she learnt that they could've been at Tankville in a mere hour and a half. Instead, the TankNav decided to be stupid and make them drive along a desolate path for four hours. Cadence decided that another bubble bath would be a great idea.

When they drove down the street, Mamá pointed out that the big building along the end of the road was the school that she would be attending.

"Academia del tanques?" That was what Cadence said upon hearing the name of the school. Mamá reminded her that she was supposed to be speaking English, so she corrected herself.

Cadence was learning English after all; she had pretty much learnt it completely, but there were a few blockades that she would have to go through before she was completely fluent. Hopefully being at a school where all of the tanks spoke English would help her ability.

Cadence found herself to be appreciating the look of the street. It looked very different to her birthplace. She looked at the streetlights, feeling the yellow light stream into her optics, blinding her. Her turret quickly turned after that, and she followed her M47 Patton mamá, who was driving to the house.

Cadence looked up, focusing on looking at the house. It was a tan colour, with multiple shiny windows and a big red roof on top of it. It looked like it had two floors. Cadence followed her mama in, noticing the lack of any furniture. The room was completely empty; there was nothing in it. Cadence was dumbfounded until M47 Patton explained that their furniture was being moved in later. She sighed at her stupidity, and she decided to explore the house.

Bathroom: check; kitchen: check. The kitchen was coated with a pearl colour everywhere, looking almost brand new. Excitedly, Cadence decided to drive up the stairs into her room. Upon entering the room, she felt right at home. For some reason, all of her furniture was already in the room. Her computer, her beanbag, and her most treasured possession: the Verdeja Games trophy. She tittered with delight upon seeing it.

The trophy was as shiny as chrome. She remembered years ago when she won that trophy; she remembered the undying greatness that emanated out of her when she took that medal of superiority home. At least, that was what it felt like to her. She was good at being a Verdeja I; maybe even one of the best.

She decided to go gaze at the stars with her microscope. She swiftly opened the curtains up, intending to check out the constellations. When she opened the curtains, she was met with a big surprise: she was staring right into another house, and it had some strange cream vehicle looking at its computer. It had a curved gun shield, and a stubby gun poking out of the middle of it. It looked like it was bored.

Cadence was instantly puzzled: what was this weird tracked thing? She was intrigued; she had to inspect it! Determined to find out what it was, Cadence smashed the power button on her computer, making it whine mechanically. The fans started to turn, and air was blown away from the computer. Cadence leaped onto her beanbag, staring at the monitor flash the word "TankOS". A little gear icon replaced the O, and it was spinning. Finally, the computer loaded in, and she logged in. Cadence giggled as she saw the desktop flash up with her favourite image: a picture of _un toro_. The bull was her favourite animal. She desperately wanted to see one, but the world she lived in seemed to be devoid of wildlife.

She opened a new tab, clobbering the keyboard frantically. She managed to type in "what is that strange cream vehicle with curved gun shield and short gun?"

She pressed enter, and the search engine processed the results of her search.

"Birch Guns United… no… 10 Tips for Birch Guns… no… How to Upgrade Yourself to a Birch Gun… NO!" Cadence shouted, "I want a tank, not a birch tree!" The result of her search was a process of enraged smoke bursting out of her engine, and a few grunts, full of anger.

She gave up, driving off her beanbag, her tracks touching the carpet. She took a few breaths, the smoke releasing itself without so much remorse for life. She'd just try again tomorrow…

* * *

As Birch Gun was browsing the internet looking for second hand memory erasers, he saw a strange looking tank looking at him through an open window. He looked up from his monitor, but the tank was gone. He thought it was a bit puzzling. After the tank disappeared, he went back to shaking and looking at the auction site he was going through.

Unfortunately for him, he could not find a memory eraser to get rid of that awful experience of almost being put in a cauldron of blazing oil out of his brain. The neglect that UE 57 was putting on him was irking him a bit. Maybe she wasn't doing it on purpose, but it seemed like she was. Since that fateful day where UE 57 was talking to a tank on the field, Birch Gun hadn't seen her since – not even in the lessons in which they were together. It was very bizarre; it seemed that UE 57 had disappeared off the face of the earth.

He just hoped that it wasn't the tank's doing. That day was very lonely (as usual); Birch Gun had seen UE 57 once, and that was on the field. She was talking to a Marder II about something; Birch Gun couldn't hear. Birch Gun went to say something, but the German tank destroyer noticed, and he sent UE 57 and himself away from the SPG. UE 57 didn't even notice.

Birch Gun was extremely sad after that; even for several days. Despite his attempts to follow the duo, they were too fast for him. He pushed his engine to the max in order to greet UE 57, but the nefarious Marder II kept directing her away from Birch Gun. She was too dazed to think of anything except Marder II, so she was in a predicament.

Birch Gun was getting sick of having that tank destroyer avoid him, so he decided to confront him about it. Birch Gun ended up with a fragmented gun shield, so he had to go to the nurse to get that fixed. Birch Gun was enraged at that point: he would do anything to get revenge. He was in the middle of looking up a memory eraser and searching for a guide on how to get revenge on German tank destroyers. Birch Gun was a good multitasker.

However, the results didn't give him any information… and it was 12 PM and he had school the following day. It made him particularly angry; he didn't ever want to go school again. It was a few days since the incident, but Birch Gun was still shaking like an earthquake. If he saw ARL 44 again, he would probably have another panic attack.

But then he thought: what's the best way to face your fears? You have to destroy them, right?

After thinking about that, Birch Gun broadened his plan to incorporate the evil ARL 44 and M5A1 Stuart. He would get revenge… somehow. Maybe he could get Churchill Gun Carrier to help him. He'd be a pretty good distraction. Churchill Gun Carrier was big, clunky and slow. He might even be able to shoot something; he was pretty successful with shooting M5A1's track off when she was raging at Birch Gun.

The only time that he saw the KV-2 was when he was unfairly put in detention. The tank had a tall turret and a stubby gun that looked like it could deliver significant pain. He knew that if he were to cross paths with that tank again, he'd tell ARL 44 and then that silly "artillery pact" would be reborn. It seemed that he was being watched all of the time; Birch Gun probably had sentries on him every single second of the day.

Birch Gun had already interrupted the pact twice now; surely the bullies wouldn't persist? He wanted to say that they wouldn't, but deep down in his hull he knew that that wouldn't happen. They would persist; Birch Gun was an enemy to those bully tanks.

One thing that Birch Gun noticed was that if UE 57 was near him, it'd be a bit more awkward with ARL 44 – as if he was trying to avoid her. UE 57 was very effective as a protection unit against ARL 44, because he didn't bother to harass (or try to kill) him when UE 57 was around. However, UE 57 wasn't ever around anymore. Birch Gun thought about where she'd be now: probably playing Thunder of War with that Marder II thing.

He could just imagine it. UE 57 playing Thunder of War on her Tankstation IV whilst snuggling up to Marder II. Eugh. Birch Gun decided not to think about that ever again.

With that, he had had enough of thinking at midnight. Without any hesitance, he threw himself onto his tank bed, putting the sky blue cover over himself. As he went to sleep, he stared at the black sky, illuminated by beautiful stars and a crescent moon. Strange… he didn't see that before.

* * *

"Come on, UE 57! Just one more kill!" Marder II cheered for UE 57 as she destroyed another tank with her very charming Panzerkampfwagen IV Ausf. A. The Kampfwagenkanone 37 L/24 seventy-five millimetre gun was very effective, especially with HEAT. It just ate through tanks' armour, even if it was the dreaded T-50, a light tank with very good armour for some reason. Marder II cheered as UE 57 claimed another kill: a lowly T-26. UE 57 laughed at the remains of the player's tank: the turret was stuck in a ditch, and the hull itself was smoking extensively.

UE 57 preferred Thunder of War to Blitz, a silly game with bad graphics – a watered down version to life as a tank itself. However, Thunder of War was better than that: no pain when you get shot, no money required for shells, and no death! UE 57 screamed at the screen that illuminated her gun shield as a mere Panzer IV Ausf. A killed her. What a scumbag! UE 57 continued to spit expletives at the screen until Marder II reminded her that she was using the Panzer IV Ausf. A herself. UE 57 offered Marder II to have a go, and he accepted, grabbing the controller and getting ready to battle.

UE 57 sat back on her bed, waiting for Marder II to pick a tank. After some choosing, he chose the Marder III; for some reason, he thought it represented himself pretty well. UE 57 watched as the tank's gun released a shell into a Panzer IV F1, killing it instantly.

"Wow, Marder II!" UE 57 squeaked in delight, "You're great at this game!"

"Well… I have been playing since 1942…" Marder II spoke extremely pompously; too much pompous power to pass through UE 57's naivety. "Thunder of War is one of my favourite games. I play it all day."

UE 57 hadn't been playing for long; only long enough to get the Panzer IV Ausf. A and the Marder III. She liked the tanks, but she noticed a significant hole in the tech tree. There were no French tanks! A tank she really wanted that was French tank destroyer called the UE 57. She saw it on Blitz, and she was instantly captivated with it. She loved how it played: the tiny but deadly gun, its tiny size, and its cuteness.

The match ended, and there was a black screen while the game was loading up the scoreboard of the match. As the battle results flashed up, UE 57 cheered when she saw that the two tank destroyers' unified work had gotten them to first place of their team; and UE 57's account was presented with a sweet new emblem!

"Ooh!" UE 57 squawked happily, "An emblem from Poland!"

"Ah, yes," Marder II was trapped in the jail of nostalgia. "I remember when we defeated Poland."

UE 57 wasn't really listening. She was too busy staring at her new Polish symbol. "Sorry, what?"

"Oh, er, nothing." Marder II replied. He just remembered the time: it was midnight, and he was in a female French tank destroyer's house that he had only met a few days ago. "Look at the time, UE 57. I'd best get going; your Mum doesn't even know I'm here."

"No; you can't go! If my Mum sees you go down the stairs, she'll think the worst, therefore making her go ape on me. If you sleep here tonight, we can get up extra early before Mum has got up, and we can go to Tank Academy together.

Marder II didn't reply for a few seconds; he was too busy thinking. "…That's a good idea, UE 57. I'll sleep on the floor."

"Okay!" And with that, UE 57 lied down in her tank bed, pulling the cover over herself. Marder II lied down under a blue velvet blanket that was on the floor for some reason.

* * *

It was a bright and sunny day, the orange ball of flame casting rays of warmth down on everything in the world. In Tankville, it was a typical morning – all of the student tanks were going down to Tank Academy or taking the tank transporter to go to Tank College in Track Fields, which was a quiet little village which had a big college. It was bigger than the town hall. The beautiful village wasn't exactly quite when the tank transporter unleashed its load on the village, which annoyed the residents of the place.

Cadence was unexpectedly woken up by her alarm clock. She pounded the off button, silencing the obnoxious plastic box. The alarm was close to breaking; it had endured so many smashes on its little circular off button… so much so that the button cracked, and if there was any more pressure put onto it than normal, it would die.

Cadence stopped thinking about alarm clocks, and she got out of her tank bed. She assumed that her house had been filled with the furniture while she was asleep. She then remembered that she was incredibly tired (she didn't get much sleep) and that she should be preparing for school. She grudgingly picked up her bag that she had slowly prepared the night before, and she drove down the stairs.

As she was doing this, she thought about how the tanks would treat her. She was a Verdeja I after all; a fairly obscure tank. Would the other tank students shun her for being weird? She hoped not.

Eventually she got down the stairs (she was driving down them rather slowly) and she greeted her mum, acting as if she was excited to leave all of her friends in her previous school, having to adapt in a completely new world. She looked at the time, and she noticed she was late. In a craze, she greeted her mamá rather hastily.

M47 Patton didn't really need to point the time out, but she did anyway, "Cadence; you're sort of late, so it'd probably be best to go off to school now. Do you know where Tank Academy is?"

Cadence was too fast to control her speed; she accidentally bashed herself on the kitchen worktop. She yelped and then replied, "Sí; it's up the road."

Cadence recovered from the collision she had with the worktop, and she reversed back, almost ramming into a table. M47 Patton watched her as she escaped from the maze of furniture that had been set. Her wheels spun and her tracks went off of the carpet, going out into the wide world. She didn't really hear her mother's goodbye, because she was already gone.

Despite the fear of having to do everything over again, this area that Cadence lived in gave her a sense of determination; the sense that she could do anything she wanted… until her optics stabilised from the driving and she saw Tank Academy in the distance, up the end of the road. Perhaps she was about to go to a nest of opportunities, but the school didn't look convincing like her last _escuela._

From what she could see, the school looked like a white block, but it was an ugly white block. Her last school was a beautiful tan castle. This school didn't look like an academy at all; it looked like something that a three year old Panzer I would draw in its first art class. Cadence didn't get a good first impression. Regardless, her tracks spun and she drove forward, kicking away the stones that stood in her path.

As she got closer to the school, she saw a river of tanks flowing into the school like a stream of water. There were lots of different tanks, and they all looker bigger than her. Back in her old school, she was loved by lots and hated by none – except the ARL 44 bully who didn't just hate her; she hated all of the tanks that opposed him (and that was every tank except his little crony – the Spanish T-26 who was constantly pressured into following him; otherwise he'd be clobbered by the ARL 44.)

Cadence did try to reach out to the T-26; she tried to help him escape from the terrible tank, but he just refused. He lived in fear of that French monster. If the ARL 44 would've found out about the T-26 running away from him, he would've been found and destroyed. Cadence remembered how happy the T-26 was when ARL 44 moved away to some "academy in a place next to tanks like him". She wondered what that meant.

She looked again at the tanks driving into the academy. Half of them were coming from the right side, which were the tanks living in Ruskie. She noticed a high amount of KV-1Ss going. They were all talking to each other. Cadence noticed that the area around them was devoid of tanks; about a metre. It was as if there was an aura or shield between the KV-1Ss and the rest of the tanks.

Most of the tanks were going from the left side, where the other significant towns and cities were. Cadence drove forward again, but she quickly halted when she saw an open topped tank going at about 5 mph due to him shaking for some reason. His speed wasn't probably good anyway, but it was cursed further by the earthquake that was going on in his hull.

The vehicle was hard to focus on because of its tremoring, but Cadence noticed it had a gun shield that curved, and a little gun in the middle of the shield. It looked fairly normal apart from that. Cadence was affected by its obvious lack of peace and tranquillity in the tank's possession, so she felt it was a duty to her to aid the tank and to make it feel better.

Cadence was a conquistador of happiness, and she wanted to show it by brightening this tank's day up. As she was nearing the vehicle, she remembered the previous encounter at the window. It was the same tank that had a forecast of apprehension over it; a personal thunder cloud to rain on its parade. Cadence felt obligated to help the tank even more; it must've been in turmoil for so long!

Cadence was great at making tanks feel better: she was the bringer of happiness. She was amazing at doing it in her previous school. Of course, the cliché villain would go and ruin everything – and that'd be ARL 44. Cadence wouldn't know what to do if ARL 44 was at Tank Academy – oh, the horror!

She finally decided to crusade forward with intention to help the tank. She swerved round the side of it. The tank got a huge fright when he saw Cadence, and it had no desire to do anything. This tank's name was Birch Gun, and he still hadn't gotten over the fact that he was almost killed by a bunch of tanks who decided that they didn't like him. Birch Gun slid forward a metre, ending up spinning in the middle of the road. Cadence stopped beside him.

Cadence didn't know whether she should use Spanish or English, so she went for the former. She hoped that every tank spoke Spanish like they did in the old place she lived in.

She cleared her throat, and began to speak. "Hola, ¿estás bien?" she asked. Birch Gun looked blank.

He looked at Cadence, having absolutely no idea what she was saying. Was it some sort of alien code? It sounded like something that he had heard before; like a different language. Wait… Birch Gun knew the word "hola". He swore it meant something like hello. In a rave of confusion, he managed to utter the word.

Cadence was delighted; maybe some tanks in this area did speak Spanish after all! She felt warm inside, and that propelled her to speak more Spanish. "¿Cuál es su problema, señor?"

That question almost sent Birch Gun's turret spinning at an extremely high speed out of confusion. After he recovered, he was reminded of the Chinese language that M5A1 Stuart was speaking in; it was foreign, and this alien language was as well. That reminded him of the kiss of death of being lowered into a cauldron of burning oil. He shook even more. If he shuddered harder, he could potentially cause a continental drift in the world, therefore causing a disaster. He forced himself to calm down.

"D-d-do you speak English?" Birch Gun was capable of speaking, but the words were very hard to hear over the tremors that he was making and the vigorous shaking that his engine was creating. After he calmed himself down (eventually), Cadence was granted the ability to speak again, and so she did.

"Oh, English? Sorry, I was speaking Spanish…" Cadence replied rather sheepishly. She now assumed that her Spanish would be of no use in the area.

"S-Spanish? Is that like Ch-Chinese?" Birch Gun asked, trembling with every syllable.

"Uh… not exactly." Cadence sighed; she didn't think this tank was an expert on languages.

"O-Oh…" Birch Gun murmured, "Well, I'm o-off to s-school now… I'll b-be going now…"

Cadence watched as he went, and then she thought of something to ask him, "Which school?"

Birch Gun stopped. "Oh, uh, T-Tank Academy."

"Oh, I am going there!" Cadence replied, "We go together, yes?" She seemed to have some enthusiasm in her voice.

"Uh… sure." Birch Gun agreed. Both of their engines started in sync, and their tracks moved. Cadence was outdriving Birch Gun considerably, even more so because Birch Gun was burdened by the constant shaking.

"Let's go!" Verdeja I excitedly expressed, driving off. Did she actually make a friend? Maybe life wouldn't be so bad if she had a friend. Her new friend was a bit silly looking, but it was a friend nonetheless.

Cadence went forward, leaving Birch Gun in the dust. She figured that he would appear later at the gate.

* * *

UE 57 was glad that she hadn't seen Birch Gun yet; she was talking to Marder II about Thunder of War, and their awesome game that they had. Then they went to sleep, and then they had to use stealth to get past Nashorn, who was UE 57's mum. After that, the duo drove as fast as they can to Tank Academy, where they arrived very early. They were sat there waiting for twenty minutes until Marder II suggested that they could play Blitz. Then UE 57 had a blast playing her UE 57, a tank that she loved dearly. There was a click between her and that tank; she couldn't figure out why.

As Cadence went into the gates for the first time, she noticed a UE 57 and a Marder II talking and laughing together. It seemed to her that the laughing and talking from the UE 57 was sort of blank… like it was monotone. It didn't sound correct. Cadence simply dismissed it as something, and she waited for Birch Gun to come up.

As Birch Gun was slowly driving up to the school, Cadence noticed that lots of tanks were looking at her; even the Marder II looked up from his game. It sort of scared Cadence to see that every tank was looking at her except the UE 57, who was fixated on the iPad's screen. As Birch Gun drove up to Cadence, UE 57 was suddenly gone. Cadence turned her turret to acknowledge something that the Marder II said, but it was talking to the UE 57.

Cadence saw Birch Gun drive in, so she simply followed him. As they entered the school, Cadence saw all kinds of tanks driving about in the main hallway. Cadence saw Birch Gun talking to a tank, so Cadence decided to happily join in. She stopped next to Birch Gun, who was talking to a Ram II inappropriately dressed with pink and violet floral camouflage. Cadence felt a bit sick.

"Hi!" Cadence joyfully spoke to the Ram II. She was on one of her good days. The day before, she was complaining about driving for three hours. When she woke up, she was complaining about having to go to school. Now she was in school, and she was talking to tanks that seemed to appreciate her. She came to the area with a gloomy atmosphere, which was lightened upon entering the school. But hang on; she didn't even have any lessons yet…

When her thoughts popped out of her turret, she saw Ram II looking at her, trying to say something.

"Y-You're very pretty!" Ram II had finally said something, and it seemed to charm Cadence. It sounded like a compliment to her, so she accepted it gracefully.

"That's very nice of you to say, Ram II!" Cadence giggled a bit after that; she had never been called pretty before. It didn't occur to her that tanks found each other pretty.

Birch Gun was completely oblivious to whatever what was happening; his turret was in the opposite direction, looking at UE 57 laugh with the Marder II. UE 57 looked like she was hypnotised, or something. The Fritz took his iPad and he instructed UE 57 to follow him. She did it obediently, and the tanks began to move.

Cadence and Ram II were already gone, but Birch Gun didn't care. He wanted to know what this Marder II was doing with UE 57, and he was going to know. The last time Birch Gun had seen him, he was shooting off his gun shield, therefore causing him to go to the nurse. This time however, there would be none of that. Marder II would explain it, and then he'd face the consequences for his actions.

Birch Gun swerved round and he drove backwards, acting as a blockade to the tank destroyer, who started to speak rather instantly.

"Oh great; it's you again," Marder II sighed, "Do I really have to take your gun shield down like last time?"

"No; you'll tell me what you've done to U-UE 57." Birch Gun's voice was beginning to shudder. Marder II noticed it, and he laughed mockingly.

"Aww, is little baby going to cry? You're not much of a tank, are you? You'd be better off as a bunny rabbit…" Marder II scornfully spat, "And being a bunny rabbit is hard work; you'll have to commit to it. Why don't you do it now by making like a bunny rabbit and hopping off?" Marder II was rather impressed with himself for that.

Birch Gun glanced at UE 57, who was just sitting there naively, as if she was waiting for a command. Birch Gun's engine smoked as his anger started to get more intense. He shouted at Marder II, who was very eager to put a shot into him. He was just about to break his gun shield for a second time when Leopard 1 appeared behind them, shouting with the force of a volcano exploding. Marder II attempted to explain the situation (with bias) to no effect.

"YOU SHOULD BE IN YOUR LESSON, YOUNG TANKS! DETENTION! NOW!" the main battle tank bellowed. Birch Gun's gun shield would've been better broken by Marder II; because Leopard 1 almost shattering it with the power of extreme shouting would've been less painful.

* * *

Birch Gun sighed. He had Marder II behind him, UE 57 to the left of him looking out as if she was not bothered with anything. In front of him was a tank that he recognised: it was the KV-2 bully. Birch Gun was almost certain that that wasn't a coincidence.


	18. Annihilation

KV-2 was in the detention room again; at the same time. It seemed to be a coincidence, but Birch Gun knew it was something far more sinister. When Birch Gun was in the detention room previously, KV-2 was there. KV-2 was one of the bullies, and he knew that Birch Gun narrowly escaped death with the help of M6 Heavy. Birch Gun would be first to die, probably having a painful death. He dreaded the hundred and fifty-two millimetre howitzer that was sat there on KV-2's tall turret, motionless. KV-2 had obviously done something bad on purpose to get into detention, supplied with the knowledge that Birch Gun would be in detention too.

KV-2 said nothing; his engine was just rumbling, fumes coming out of it: all was normal. Birch Gun was particularly shaky; his engine was almost rocking the chair and the table; Birch Gun felt the vibrations.

Out of curiosity, Birch Gun looked around. Marder II was showing only hatred with his snarls. Birch Gun remembered Marder II as the soft tank that was failing at hitting the target in that P.E. lesson. He looked very innocent at that time. Now, he was an evil machine who had done something to UE 57 to make her incapable of doing anything except following Marder II's commands. She just sat there, motionless, just like KV-2. However, KV-2 would occasionally turn his turret in boredom. UE 57 did absolutely nothing of the sort.

She looked like she was asleep… well, until Marder II said something, and she perked right up, listening to every intricate detail of Marder II's whisper. Birch Gun overheard the talking, and he was offended. Marder II was talking about him! According to the German, Birch Gun was an evil dragon that could breathe evil shells whilst being an evil artillery. Birch Gun was banished by the ancient gods in spite of the hallowing desecration that he could cause upon the world of tanks. He escaped out of a purple portal, making his way to Tank Academy, where he shape-shifted into a Birch Gun. Marder II spoke of the SPG in such a violent way; the words would be taboo in the most crazy of places.

Of course, UE 57 believed all of it, and Birch Gun gained himself another enemy. There was only one outcome: Marder II had to be defeated. He could turn his turret around and destroy Marder II rather easily, but there was a blockade: the sleeping KV-5 at the front of the room. If Birch Gun shot and he suddenly woke up, there would be a rather unhappy ending for Birch Gun. He'd be sent to the bad detention room… a room for bad tanks.

Ram II described it as being a hellish pit with fire licking at you everywhere you go. According to him, there are fountains of lava spilling on the floor. The seats are made out of the coldest stone you could ever sit on. Birch Gun thought it was all a bit silly when Ram II explained what it was. Birch Gun asked where he got his information from, and Ram II replied, "I know because ARL 44 was in there". Birch Gun wasn't sure why ARL 44 would share his experiences of torturous detention to Ram II of all tanks, but he made a note not to get thrown in there anyway.

Birch Gun noticed that KV-5 wasn't snoring heavily any more. He was being rather quiet – for once. The constant rumbling that KV-5's snoring was irked Birch Gun; he really wanted to sneak out of the room, but he knew that Marder II would shout out, "Sir! Birch Gun is trying to escape from detention!" Then, Birch Gun would really be in the bad detention room.

The clock on KV-5's desk was ticking. Birch Gun noticed it, and he looked at the time. How long had they been in here? Birch Gun remembered looking at the time before they went into the detention room on his iPad, and it was 9:40. He looked at the clock again, discovering it was 11:39. Suddenly, the clock moved its hand and it was 11:40. KV-5 suddenly woke up with a roar, and he glanced at the time.

"Young tanks, you can now go back to your…" KV-5 paused for a moment. "lessons," he muttered tiredly. He didn't know why Leopard 1 had forced him to take some students into the detention room and wait there for two hours. It definitely ruined his morale for the rest of the day.

All of the tanks except Birch Gun got up, driving out of the door. Birch Gun had a master plan, and it seemed like it was working. He'd wait for all of the other tanks to forget about crucifying him, and then he'd drive out of the classroom, being totally safe. He'd disappear into the crowds of tanks before KV-2 or Marder II could notice him and turn him into a corpse.

He drove out of the room, going down a hallway where the other tanks in detention were going. Above him was a huge dome of glass, shining down onto the SPG. It looked rather beautiful, so Birch Gun stopped to admire it. He could see the sun gleaming on it, making for a very nice display. Birch Gun thought about taking his iPad out to snap a photo of it.

Birch Gun's plan was in vain, because KV-2 was sitting in the hallway waiting for him as soon as he came out. KV-2's gun erupted and a gargantuan shell mashed Birch Gun's track, splitting it into little pieces. Birch Gun noticed that he had almost been blown to pieces by an artillery shell, and he promptly squealed like a disgruntled pig. Upon looking at his rear wheel, he discovered that it was split into tiny little pieces. He heard a rumble that resembled a laugh, and guessed it was coming from KV-2.

Birch Gun's engine was struck by the shell, and his fuel tanks were blown open. Oil started to leak out of his hull, making him feel weaker than usual. The black liquid was staining the floor, trickling on every white shiny bit of the polished floor. It took hours to clean that floor, and then it had oil spilled over it.

Birch Gun looked at the debris which was the remains of his track. Oil in his fuel tanks was scarce now. He wouldn't be able to move even if his track was working; his fuel tanks were dry and his engine was busted, releasing unhealthy fumes.

"Aww… Birch Gun. Are you bleeding? Don't worry, the pain won't last forever. I'll end you now so we don't have to go through all of that cult business," KV-2 laughed again, the deep voice causing a magnitude. He was in the process of loading another shell.

Birch Gun scrambled for his bag, almost ripping it open with brute strength fuelled by adrenaline mixed with worry. He smashed the bag down onto the floor, almost breaking the iPad's screen. He dived in the bag to look for his repair kit that he always kept with him. iPad… lunch box… where's the repair kit?! Birch Gun was about to go crazy… wait… a note?

Birch Gun took the note out of the bag, reading it like it was the meaning of life. Birch Gun didn't know that KV-2's shell was not in the ammo rack; it was in the cannon breech, ready to fire. KV-2 was simply waiting for Birch Gun to read the note.

"Hello Birch Gun!" it read. "If you're reading this, then you're probably about to die. If I calculate correctly, KV-2 will be behind you, putting a shell into your flank… and then it will be over. Your insignificant life is no longer a problem to us. We will have fun as we please… oh, and a side note: UE 57 will be mine, you stupid little twit."

Birch Gun was about to question the note, but KV-2's shell went out of the barrel. It was spinning gracefully until it hit the roof, causing a cataclysm in the ceiling. There was a huge rumble, and the big glass dome shattered, tumbling down onto Birch Gun's location. Birch Gun was immobilised, and he was about to be eaten up by the large bits of debris smashing down onto the floor, causing quakes and cracks to appear on the floor.

Birch Gun's life flashed before him. He could remember the day that he was created, being a measly little Medium I. He loved to shred the enemy tanks on his team at that time, and he was brave, vigilant and cunning. His life goal was to become a gladiator of the tanks: a Centurion. He became depressed when he eventually turned into a Loyd Gun Carriage, losing that wonderful turret he grew to love. However, he had a big gun, and he soon learned that he could use himself as a moving shotgun, making every enemy go boom.

More often than not, it didn't work and he was sent back to his garage on many occasions prematurely. But, he had fun with it. He was a boomstick. He didn't learn how to use his powers as an artillery until he became a Sexton II, being banished down to becoming an artillery, and not a tank destroyer. He still used himself as a shotgun, but it wasn't as effective as a Sexton II. He tried it on a KV-1, and he had the delight of having his shell do minimal damage to the heavy tank. He was out in one shot.

After a lot of failing, he became a Birch Gun, where his stats &amp; winrate dropped to the ground like a rock. Crusader SP noticed this, and she tried to get Birch Gun into a school. Not many schools near the area accepted SPGs; most of the schools were for a specific class of tanks. After Birch Gun failed his opening exam at SPG Academy, she had to get desperate. Tank Academy had the worst score of all of the schools in the area, and that was apparently because of Leopard 1, who was more concerned shouting at students than dealing with the school's problems. Tank Academy was once a great school that tanks were gifted to be attending, but it all went down when Leopard 1 became the head-teacher.

Needless to say, the school hasn't helped Birch Gun; it's killed him.

The bits of roof were tumbling down like a waterfall onto Birch Gun, turning him into a tank sandwich. He was one to eat sandwiches – not be one. He could have screamed, but it would have been muffled by the mound of things toppled on top of him. Birch Gun wasn't able to scream anyway; he was knocked out.

* * *

"Okay class… it's time for a test." T-34-1 sighed. He now knew that the particular morning he was in was torture. He'd finally get some rest by smacking a test paper down on their desks, making them quiet and calm… that'd never happen. He'd just hope that they'd settle down and stop being stupid. They were complaining about their lack of gun depression (except Chi-Nu Kai, who was sitting there like a model student), which was irking T-34-1. He wondered why he became a teacher on gun depression and elevation. The only tank complaining that was justified was KV-85; his gun depression insulted the classroom. T-34-1 decided not to talk about his own. When tanks asked what his gun depression was, he just said it was classified; he didn't know.

There was a new tank in the class. She was situated at the back of the class, listening. It looked like she was engulfed in the lesson. T-34-1 thought she looked a bit weird; her turret was in the wrong place, and she was speaking some language that he didn't know of. One of T-34-1's hobbies was learning languages: he knew Dutch, German, French and Japanese… not forgetting English and Chinese. He was starting on Polish. The language that the tank was speaking was confusing him; he had heard it before, but he couldn't remember where.

Much to T-34-1's surprise, the devilish class actually quietened down, letting him speak. "Don't worry, this test isn't too hard; it's only level one. If you pass this test, it'll be a great help for your certificate."

Many of the tanks in the class sighed with relief; after six weeks of learning, they were thinking about a harder test. Churchill Gun Carrier sighed the most, because he was expecting a demonically hard test. The test would still be evil, but it wouldn't be as evil as he was expecting. Churchill Gun Carrier was normally next to Birch Gun, but his seat was empty for some reason. Churchill Gun Carrier assumed that he was out.

On the other side, there was a rather angry Chinese tank; her name was M5A1 Stuart, and she was the tank that had an undying hatred for Birch Gun for some reason. Churchill Gun Carrier was the one who had valiantly defended Birch Gun from the terrible creature, defiling her track. M5A1 Stuart remembered the incident; the day that she had her track broken twice. She hated Churchill Gun Carrier as well, as well as most of the tanks in the school. They were all obnoxious little bugs that squeaked at her, making her even madder.

Churchill Gun Carrier looked down at the paper as it was slapped onto the table, looking at the boring font. He was getting burnt out on tests; he had done an extremely painful English test yesterday; he had to use punctuation… whatever that is. The lesson after was Maths, and that brought an awful test with awful questions, like "what's one plus one?" How was Churchill Gun Carrier supposed to know that?

It was an awfully hard question for him, and that was only the first one. He used his brain to great effect, and he put in eleven. Because if you add one and one, you get eleven! Churchill Gun Carrier was very proud with himself for completing such a hard question… until he saw the next one. One minus one? It was out of Churchill Gun Carrier's abilities to minus things. He ended up skipping the question.

Looking at the first question on the test sheet, he saw a picture of a strange tank. Its name was the T-34, which confused Churchill Gun Carrier even more. He had seen a tank like this before in a book. He thought it was a fake related to Russian propaganda. The obvious answer was muttering. "T-34? What is this sorcery?"

Shock was bestowed upon the British tank destroyer, for a tank behind him actually answered. Churchill Gun Carrier turned around to see the tank he was previously looking at on the sheet. "That would be me…" it answered, leaving Churchill Gun Carrier in a rave of confusion. Wasn't that the tank that he had seen before having a parade with that M5A1 Stuart and some small little green tank thing?

Back to the question. "What is the T-34's gun depression?" Churchill Gun Carrier read. How was he supposed to know that… wait, that question was on the board for every lesson since the beginning. Churchill Gun Carrier's brain disallowed him from having the key to the treasure chest: the key was the answer, and the mark was contained in the chest. He decided to guess. When he looked back at the T-34, it looked like it had some gun depression, which led the tank destroyer to believe the depression was an exorbitant amount, so Churchill Gun Carrier put 15 degrees on the sheet. A feeling at the back of his boxy superstructure told him that that answer was completely wrong, but he went through with it anyway.

He moved onto the next question. "What is the Churchill Gun Carrier's gun depression?" Churchill Gun Carrier was confounded again. He felt like he should have known the answer – it felt so obvious. The question was annoying him, so he simply scribbled a few random numbers, going onto the next question. He wasn't particularly happy at that point.

"Chinese tanks have different levels of gun depression compared to the other nations. Chinese tanks have very …. gun depression overall."

Oh! A question that Churchill Gun Carrier knew! It was so clear to him; he had known it all his life, ever since he was somehow created as a Churchill Gun Carrier instead of a Medium I. The answer was so obvious; he'd be able to know it even without a brain. "Dot dot dot dot dot dot dot gun depression?" he talked to himself. "That can't be right… Chinese tanks have very good gun depression."

M5A1 Stuart heard that comment, and she sniggered upon hearing it. Which world did this big stupid Brit live in; opposite world? Or was it the land of dumb? M5A1 Stuart was so good with names; she was the best in the school at making names. Nobody would be able to beat her, even with advanced naming training. She was the best.

While M5A1 Stuart was thinking about being great with names, Churchill Gun Carrier was on the next question.

* * *

Cadence was having similar problems with the test; not on the scope of Churchill Gun Carrier's problems, but with her lack of knowledge. It was her first lesson on the subject, and she was already hit with a test. There were six weeks she had missed; six weeks of what? Studying numbers? She was glad that she came into the term late. It wouldn't have been a nice experience to go through six weeks of studying boring numbers. There was enough maths in the school.

The question about the Chinese tanks was not going well for Cadence, primarily because she didn't know anything about Chinese tanks. In her old school, Chinese tanks were scarce; the majority were American. There was only one Chinese tank she spoke to in her old school, and that tank was a Type T-34, which really wasn't a Chinese tank. Cadence remembered that the tank always talked about her gun depression being awful, so Cadence took a chance and wrote "very bad".

The next question was about the gun elevation of the Medium III, a tank that sounded like a mutant. She was sure that she had seen something that sounded like that: an American tank with three guns or something like that. She just put in a random answer, and she was on the next gruelling question.

She remembered her old school once again, which was in a hot arid country – with lots of palm trees. Tank Academy had no palm trees, and that made her feel a bit sad. The palm trees were the main attraction of the other school. There were lots of palm trees because they could grow in the hot climate of the country. Most of the time, it was too hot to teach in the school building, so most of Cadence's classes was outside. The sun was just too persistent with sending blazing rays of heat down onto the school.

The rooms were uncomfortable for work, but that didn't stop the teachers. They were generally happy and cheerful, eager to teach their students something new. They were informative, answering any question that you could throw at them (as long as it was related to the subject). In this school, it seemed that most of the teachers were unenthusiastic, unhelpful and uninformative. It seemed that their good qualities dwindled under the command of that ferocious creature; the Leopard 1.

What was the teacher's name again? T-34-1? He didn't seem to be caring about anything; his voice was monotone, showing his lack of enthusiasm for anything. The students in his class were misbehaving, going on rampages of silliness. Cadence couldn't even get on with her test; the room was too noisy. She eventually gave up.

The teachers at her old school would've never let that degree of chaos go on in any room. If any teacher did let something like that, they would be fired rather quickly. It was a shame that the nefarious Leopard 1 existed; otherwise the state of the school probably wouldn't be like that. The whole school was a significant step down in quality from her previous school.

Despite the chaos erupting in the classroom, Cadence was actually able to complete her test. She placed it on the table rather neatly face down, waiting for the teacher to take it. Cadence glanced at him, and she discovered that he was asleep. Cadence sighed.

The bell rang soon after that, and the teacher suddenly woke up, seeing a ruler embedded in the wall. He sighed, trying not to have his ammo rack explode on him with anger. "All of you can go… except for Panzer IV Ausf. J."

T-34-1 watched the river of tanks explode out of the classroom. Panzer IV Ausf. J thought it was funny to stick a metal ruler into the wall… well, it wasn't. T-34-1 assumed it was him, because he had a habit to stick rulers in walls. He was known as the "ruler ruler" by the students.

Cadence drove out of the room, swerving round to go outside. Upon exiting the room, she noticed a big rusty box that was somehow passed off as tank. It was trundling along at about half the speed of a snail. Cadence rocketed past the cuboid, and she almost crashed straight into a huge mound of debris. Her tracks screeched like a cat being disfigured by a sledgehammer as her brakes activated.

She looked down at the once shiny floor, and then up, seeing a gaping hole in the roof, which was once a glass dome. There was glass everywhere, and that wasn't all of it. The dome had taken down most of the ceiling as well, causing a colossal mess. Cadence was just glad that that landslide hadn't fallen on anyone. She really wanted to know what happened.

Several tanks stopped in front of the mountain, including Marder II and UE 57, still following him like a loyal dog and its owner.

"What happened here? How did this happen?" Cadence asked. She was puzzled; it must've taken something big to take the roof down.

Marder II heard her, and looked at the Spanish tank in a weird way. _This creature must be new_, he thought. _Wait… that thing was talking to the Birch Gun! It must be eliminated!_

"Oi Conquistador; are you stupid or what?" Marder II scornfully growled. "Why, it's obvious that something happened, you filthy Spaniard."

Cadence heard the tank behind her speak, and she spun round, looking at Marder II directly. "Sorry; what?" She didn't know why the tank destroyer randomly insulted her.

Marder II didn't know any more things to say, so he went for irrelevant things to insult her about. "Why didn't your useless country help us in the War? You… se_ñor dumb thing!" he snarled. He didn't really know what he was saying; he just wanted Cadence to reply back with a higher level of aggressiveness, so he could go and tell a teacher. _

_Cadence laughed. "Don't you mean se_ñorita, Marder II? A señor is male."

Marder II roared like a demented lion. "No… if a señor is a man; you're so ugly that you could be mistaken as a man, bullfighter!"

"I think you have the wrong person." Cadence replied. "Sorry."

"No I don't, sombrero wearer! Go grow a moustache and play your maracas!"

"You're really shallow, aren't you? If you're trying to insult me, you're failing massively. In fact, please continue. It's providing me a lot of entertainment." Cadence exclaimed her satisfaction with a big mocking laugh. Marder II was enraged.

"Taco eater! Mariachi band player! Grr!" Marder II almost screamed. "Go back to eating your burritos, filthy dog!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not Mexican," Cadence replied calmly, almost exploding with laughter. She was still recovering from watching that previous show of anger from Marder II. "I'm just Spanish."

Marder II said something to UE 57 that Cadence didn't hear, and she instantly became hostile, spitting flames of rage at Cadence. "You stupid Spanish mutant!" she screeched, almost shattering Cadence's optics. "All you're good for is for being dumb!" UE 57 squawked.

What did Cadence get out of this? Absolutely nothing. All of the other tanks were gone; they were scared off by Marder II's berserk mode. Cadence decided to simply drive away from the two tank destroyers. Her break was largely wasted by the stupidity that was that poisonous conversation. She thought that would be the end of it, but as she went out to the field, she noticed that Marder II and UE 57 were chasing her. Marder II came to a stop, and he commanded UE 57 to chase after Cadence like a rabid dog.

Cadence thought UE 57 would trip on a rock or something, but she realised she was berserk after she saw UE 57 obliterate a target that was set up by a rather surprised Durchbruchswagen 2 and a T-28. They sat there and stared at the annihilated wreck that was once the target that the D.W 2 spent 5,000 credits on.

Cadence pushed her engine to the max, going much faster than UE 57. It was all going well until Marder II shouted something, and then UE 57 began to shoot at her. Five shots had been placed into the ground, and Cadence discovered that UE 57 was very bad at firing on the move. However, it all changed when Marder II shouted another thing, and UE 57 started hitting Cadence in the back perfectly. One of the armour-piercing rounds penetrated into her engine, damaging it substantially.

She felt a sharp pain in her back, and her wheels &amp; tracks stopped moving. UE 57 was placing every shot into her perfectly: now she was going for the back of the turret. Cadence just hoped that UE 57 wouldn't strike her ammo rack. Cadence turned her turret to return fire, but she realised that there weren't any shells in her ammo rack anyway – as per the school rules. Who follows those anyway?

"Your meddling was too much, taco eater!" UE 57 screamed lividly as she released the shot that would doom her. She awaited death, but it didn't come. She heard the shell impact her… but there was no pain. She looked up, seeing a Versuchskonstruktion 30.02 (M), the tank that vigilantly protected her from having a violent death.

The VK 30.02 (M) drove forward to UE 57, who suddenly didn't feel so big. All she could see what blackness, as the VK's shadow ate her up. Marder II ordered her to move back, so she spun round, driving off rather hastily. The German medium tank went to Cadence, greeting her.

"Are you okay?" the tank asked.

Cadence nodded her gun. "She scared me, that's all… the Marder II keeps commanding her like she's a dog."

"How peculiar…" the tank responded. "My name's Raven. I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm Cadence. Glad to meet you."

"Glad to meet you too. We ought to get you to the nurse, Cadence. You look pretty beat up."

"Yes… good idea." Cadence was still incapable of moving.

* * *

When they were travelling to the nurse, the two tanks told each other that they had absolutely no idea where the medical room was. Foolishly, Cadence asked Leopard 1, assuming that he was of any viable help. The students got shouted at, and they were threatened with detention if they disturbed him again. Angry and shaken, they eventually got to the room for medical aid. It was a tough job, considering that Cadence's damaged engine stopped her from being hasty, but they got there in the end.

Cadence looked up to see a big white door with a clean frame, and a red cross in the middle of it.

"Well, I guess this is the place…"

"Yeah. I need to go Cadence; I'll see you later. I have some business to attend to," Raven swerved round.

"Oh, okay. Bye, Raven!" Cadence replied, but Raven vanished out of thin air. "How weird…" Cadence murmured. And with that, she entered the room.

It was a bright room, with pale walls everywhere, not forgetting the lights that were plastered in every corner. Cadence was met with a fright when she saw a sheet. It was white, but it was cursed with a black liquid that was soaking the cloth. A KV-1 was inspecting the vehicle under it, lifting the sheet occasionally. Cadence turned her turret away, seeing a T67 that looked rather beat up. A M36 Slugger was crying oil over the tank, murmuring nonsensical things.

Cadence saw a sign saying "SIT HERE AND WAIT FOR A NURSE TO TEND TO YOU," so she did. She sat down on the sea green cushion, waiting for someone to notice her. She was sitting next to a Crusader SP. It looked like a mutant to her; the hull was fitted on backwards for some reason. Cadence didn't know how the British tank-creators could fail so much as to fit a hull on the wrong way.

The Crusader SP was called up, and it drove along to the sheet, its gun down. Cadence wondered what was under that sheet.

The KV-1 spoke rather loudly, so Cadence heard him clearly. "I'm afraid to say this, but your son is not in the best condition right now."

Crusader SP looked like she was close to crying, for good reason. Her "son" was concealed under a white sheet. "He'll be okay… right?"

"This is a job that is beyond me. He's going to have to be sent to the hospital," KV-1 adjusted his hat awkwardly. "We're going to send him to the hospital in… probably about twenty minutes."

"Hang on hang on hang on… I don't know what even happened. Can you at least tell me how my little Birchie got into this situation?" Crusader SP's aggressive tone was fuelled by a mix of anger and sorrow.

"Yes… one of the more troubled students fired at the roof of one of the halls, and the glass dome and everything else around that ceiling fell on Birch Gun. He's very lucky that he wasn't killed instantly."

Cadence thought about what they were saying. Birch Gun… that was the open-topped artillery tank, wasn't it? The ceiling fell on Birch Gun… is that what they are saying? Cadence now knew what that mound of debris and glass was: the roof had caved in onto Birch Gun, and he was now in a medical ward in the school, in a critical condition.

She was thinking about that rather grimly, until she was suddenly spooked by a KV-1 that looked like it was captured by some nation, presumably by the Germans. Cadence turned her turret, noticing the little white hat on top of its turret. It had the Bundeswehr insignia on it, except it was red. Cadence thought it was a bit bizarre.

"Hi. What's wrong with you?" it asked.

"It's a long story. I was basically assaulted by a rogue tank destroyer. It hit me a few times, knocking out my engine. It hurts – a lot."

"Okay – follow me." The captured KV-1 turned round, and Cadence followed. They came to a little circular panel. The nurse instructed Cadence to drive onto it, and it rose up. The panel swivelled round, and the heavy tank saw her flank, where she had been penetrated by UE 57.

"Ah, yes… you've been perforated rather harshly."

Cadence didn't understand. "Sorry?"

"My analytical research shows that the holes are that of a forty-seven millimetre; a French tank destroyer. Is this true?"

"Uh… I think so. It was a small tank."

"Probably the Renault UE 57… and I know of only one UE 57 in this school." The tank paused for a second. "Stay here; I'll go find her."

"O-kay…" Cadence replied. She was still sitting on the panel, which was suspended high in the air with a humongous screw that winded down into the floor.

When she looked back to the sheet, there was just a metal panel, like the one she was stationed on. There were oil stains everywhere on the circular panel. That would have to be cleaned up.


	19. Madness

"Hopkins! Hopkins! He's waking up!" a voice screeched. The voice ended up ricocheting all around the room, the sound waves bouncing off every single surface it could. The tank needed to be helped now; there was no time. The desperation in the screechy voice proved that.

"Bloody hell; give me a minute!" Hopkins replied, slightly irritated. All of his work that day had been dumped on him like an avalanche, crushing him. The absurd requests that were placed on his hull roof almost made it cave in. He wondered if he would end up breaking down because all of this excess work that was placed on him. All for a Birch Gun.

"He's… he's saying something!" the squeaky voice sounded again, almost breaking a mirror. The nurse had become quite accustomed to this character she had been caring for; she was like that with every patient she treated. She was sad to see them go.

"Well then, tell me what he's saying, you buffoon!" Hopkins retorted.

"Hffffffff…" Birch Gun groaned.

Hopkins turned his turret around rather quickly, his tone changing in an instant. "Eureka! We have life, Claudia!" Hopkins was happy to have finally done something correct in his life.

"B-Birch Gun? Can you hear me?" Claudia looked at the artillery, being rather worried. In all of her years working at Tankville Hospital, she had never seen such a serious case. She was told that a glass dome and roof had fallen on the tank, burying him completely in a mountain of rubble. On his initial visit, he looked like he had been mauled by a berserk bear that had mutated to have muscles that could crush anything with a single paw.

No reply.

"Dammit Claudia; that won't do anything! Here, let me take over!" Hopkins growled, his tracks staining the floor with stress in the form of marks. He looked down at Birch Gun, inspecting him thoroughly (even though he had done it already a few hours before). He made his decision based on a few seconds of inspection. Birch Gun needed an operation—oh wait… he already was due. Damn it!

Birch Gun murmured incomprehensibly, his inaudible slurs not making any sense, even if you had the best hearing in the world. When he arrived at the hospital, he had been given minor repairs, but not many. It was enough to keep him from perishing instantly. The repair of Birch Gun was a large scale operation, and it would take a lot of time (and money) to get him back to normal.

When Hopkins woke up from his daydream, he instantly spoke, "Claudia, I almost forgot! His operation! Don't worry Birch Gun chap; we'll have you out in no time. Claudia, take him to room 23," He didn't need to add any more onto the dialogue, but he did, "Plus, I need my tea."

Claudia obeyed the command, preparing to wheel Birch Gun's bed to room 23; a room that she normally wasn't told to go to, but she did it anyway. The little bed wheels squeaked as Claudia said soothingly, "Come on, Birch Gun."

Hopkins felt pretty proud with himself after that display of amazing sportsmanship… whatever that meant. A parade of epic proportions was rattling on in his brain; and he was the ringleader. He imagined himself as a great king, serving tranquillity on plates to every peasant in his land. That was until…

"Hopkins!" a voice cried out. Hopkins recognised the voice. He swerved around to meet his superior.

"Terrance!" Hopkins replied. He expected his great patriotism to shine in his face; all of those times he saved a British citizen from death, further upping his eloquence… whatever that meant.

Terrance instantly noticed that the bed that was normally there wasn't there, so to speak. He intended on questioning Hopkins about this; he assumed it had something to do with it. He decided to test him.

"Where's the Birch Gun, old chap?"

Hopkins replied with uppermost authority, "I sent Claudia to escort him to room 23; the operating room," Hopkins expected to be praised like a dog that had done an epic trick.

"Hopkins, you dingbat! That's the staff room!" Terrance spoke, irritated. How could Hopkins forget that?

"Crumbs!"

* * *

Hopkins spotted Claudia trundling along rather slowly; she was still pushing Birch Gun to room 23: the staff room. Claudia didn't know why Hopkins wanted her to go to the staff room for the operation, but she accepted it anyway. If she protested, Hopkins would probably yell. It wasn't normal for Hopkins to get anything right, anyway.

She was just about to open the staff room door, but she was interrupted by a loud shrieking sound that made her hull chill. It sounded like something was being mangled ferociously. She turned around to help the defenceless citizen, but she was met with Hopkins towering over her. She expected the worst, because Hopkins towering over her like that meant she had done something wrong. She always wished he had a nicer superior.

"Claudia, what is this?!" Hopkins yelled, his anger being blasted around the room.

"Uh, I'm going to room 23! Like you said, Hopkins!"

"Claudia, you sodding nutter! I tested you to see if you'd go to the correct room, and you didn't! You've been working here since you were a Valentine Mk. I, and you don't even know where the operating room is?!"

"Sir, but you didn't tell me which room to go to anyway! If you said go to the operating room, I would have gone to room 47! Honest!"

"Use your common sense, you gormless pillock!" Hopkins took a few deep breaths, calming down. The smoke that was bursting out of his engine like a crazy inmate was not doing so anymore, "It's okay Claudia, but next time; remember that room 23 is not room 47."

Claudia didn't reply, instantly swerving round to take Birch Gun (who was now mumbling incomprehensible words; something about a KV) to room 47; the actual operating room. She was picking up speed until Hopkins halted her.

"Oh, I almost forgot: where is my tea?" Hopkins asked.

"Sir, I've really gotta get to the room; this poor kid is gonna die…" She began to push the bed again, whizzing off to room 47. Because of Hopkins' own incompetence, Birch Gun was late for his operation; and every extra minute was detrimental to his health.

Hopkins stood there, gawking at her driving off into the distance. "That blighter didn't tell me where my tea is…"

* * *

Birch Gun was finally capable of using his brain again, but he wished that he wasn't able to. He was now aware of everything in the world, including the immense pain that he was experiencing in the hospital itself. It did make sense; he was crushed by a lot of debris, all thanks to that KV-2. He wished that KV-2 would be in prison by now, but the school probably wouldn't do anything about it.

Thinking about his life, he realised it was completely ruined. Birch Gun's mind had been tainted by so many things in the school: Marder II and his powers, almost being burnt alive in a huge cauldron of oil, and being flattened by a cascading roof. He was alright being a regular fighter in the world of tanks, but his mum just had to go and spoil it. He was getting so good at using himself as a missile; his average kills had gone from to , which made him happy. He was at least killing a tank every two-hundred and fifty games, which was something.

He was a veteran; he remembered getting a medal every five-hundred games, along with a bit more experience than he normally got. He remembered getting single digits in terms of the experience, but it didn't bother him. It'd take him a few years to upgrade himself completely (let alone becoming a Bishop), but he didn't care one bit. It didn't matter to him how many times a rogue light tank had emptied so many shots into him that he could become a driving ammo rack; for all of those times, there was a memory of him chipping a rock with his shell, or something else.

At least he had friends in the school – well, a friend. He really didn't know anyone else well enough to consider them a friend except UE 57 (who was busy being a slave) and Churchill Gun Carrier. Churchill Gun Carrier was a bit dopey, but Birch Gun didn't care; he was a friend. He could see himself being friends with Ram II, that shy tank who looked like a crazed hippy. Regardless of his poor camouflage choice (that made him stick out like an extremely sore thumb; bleeding even), he seemed like a nice chap.

Then there was Cadence, that rather pretty tank with a nice name. Birch Gun had only talked to her briefly, but she seemed like a person he could vent to. Plus, she had a charming accent, and it seemed like she had a way with words (once she had stopped speaking alien). It was obvious that she didn't come from Birch Gun's side of the world of tanks; where did she come from? Birch Gun pondered for a few seconds (it was rather hard to think with the pain), until he finally remembered. She came from Albania; it was clear… wait… that wasn't right.

Where did she come from? Birch Gun would have to ask her – well, after he was allowed to not be confined to a bed again. He longed for that day – he had only been in the hospital for less than a day, and it was already bothering him. The worst part of it was not the pain; it was the fact that the bed was itchy. That was the worst thing ever. He longed to destroy that terrible itch. It was on the bottom of his hull, tickling him with the most obnoxious feeling ever known to a tank.

"Birch Gun?" a voice asked, and upon Birch Gun turning his turret towards the noise, he noticed it was Claudia, his personal nurse. She drove over to the bed that Birch Gun was trapped in.

"Good morning, Birch Gun," Claudia greeted him warmly, trying to make him forget about his condition. She knew that Birch Gun wasn't in much of a state to speak, so she never expected a reply. "Is there anything I can get you?"

It hurt for Birch Gun to speak, but he did anyway. "A-A glass of oil… please…," he mumbled weakly. He couldn't converse well, but at least his brain was in working order.

"Right away!" Claudia spun round and drove off to get Birch Gun his drink. He thought it'd clear his headache. Hopefully it was sparkling.

Birch Gun lay in his bed, thinking about all of the events that had happened. Last time he knew, he was in a hallway with KV-2. That's all he remembered before he had the ear splitting boom and the stampede of bits of roof smashing onto him. It saddened him to think about that, so he thought about battling. Then he remembered that he would most likely never battle again, so he instead thought about thinking about nothing. It was clearly the most logical choice in a situation like that.

Birch Gun was so bored; out of desperation, he was just about to resort to thinking about historical accuracy, but Claudia came back with a glass of beautiful shiny black oil. It wasn't sparkling, but that didn't matter to Birch Gun; he just emptied it down after Claudia gave it to him, and it was gone within a few seconds.

After that, Birch Gun fell asleep. He didn't remember what happened when he woke up the next day. It seemed that a wave of sleepiness just came over him.

* * *

"Keh keh keh…" Marder II cackled with evilness as he researched the last component into domination of the school: the Jagdpanzer 38(t), also known as the nefarious Hetzer. He did a girly (evil) squeal as the option to upgrade to the next tank appeared. He didn't want the Marder 38(t); that was a weak tank for weak people. He wanted the true solution to all of his problems: the casemate tank destroyer with a beautiful seventy-five millimetre gun. He intended to control every single tank in the entire school, to command them to destroy Leopard 1. Marder II would become the supreme leader of the school; if any teacher resisted, he would set his gargantuan army on them and obliterate them.

UE 57 was only a stepping stone; Marder II wasn't exactly sure why UE 57 started talking to him sporadically; in fact, he didn't care. He lured her into his trap with the most extreme magic any tank could ever think of… well, it wasn't exactly magic; it was just a way. He wouldn't reveal to anyone how he did it; nobody even noticed. Birch Gun probably had no idea why his friend had gone rogue and suddenly started attacking him; who would?

Since UE 57 was only the beginning, he had more plans. He would go on to get that Spanish vehicle under his command by charming her with the power of German machinery. Marder II wooed all of the ladies with his marks of excellence; he was excellent overall. His excellence was nothing short of excellent, that excellent word that he thought was excellent. Marder II really loved the world excellent. After he took over the school with excellent brute force, he would call himself the Excellent Leader.

The Spanish tank would be easy to take over; she seemed relatively simple minded. She needed help to shake off UE 57 (and she didn't even have a strong gun), which would be a rather easy task for any tank. Miss Renault didn't seem to be very good at fighting, which hindered Marder II's initial plans of domination. It didn't bother him that much, because he was a master of battle. There was a reason why he was called the 'Dark Hammer'; the hammer was his gun, and the bashing of the hammer was the gun perforating his enemies.

His mind was once in the right place; he was once a great warrior of valour, bringing peace to all of his fellow tanks when he was in pre-school as a Panzerj_äger I. Whenever a tank was crying, he would be there to help. They would be amazed as the small German soothingly treated their problems with a high degree of tranquillity and calmness. Straight after, the tank would be healed, and Marder would feel great._

But that was in the past. Marder II found himself to have an unnatural hatred towards other tanks; even to ones in his own family. He wanted to take every single of their hulls and scratch them up, tearing holes in them. He didn't exactly know how to tear holes in metal, but he'd persevere.

Marder II didn't know why he was so troubled; he just wanted to let it all out, but that was a complex process; it involved the death of an innocent tank. He didn't really think while he was leading the foolish, naïve tank that he pulled off the street randomly into a dark alleyway, only to aggressively knock them out/kill them and steal their belongings. He said he was a kleptomaniac, but his mother said he was a thief, and he subsequently got whacked into submission. After the sixth time, he agreed never to mug other tanks again, but that was a lie.

Even the doctor didn't seem to cure him; countless doctors had tried to stop him from being crazy, but it never worked. Marder II's views on the world were different, and in his brain he wasn't the one who was changing; it was the world. He saw the world as a tainted place (it was anyway) that he had to liberate the good tanks from. He wasn't sure if he was lying to himself; the voices in his head told him that that was the truth.

The thoughts in his brain popped, and in his mostly pitch black desolate room, he stared at the laptop that was brightly attempting to give the room colour. The curtains were shut firmly; Marder II had used super glue to stick the curtains to the windows. He intended to never see sunlight again; he hated the sight of it. There wasn't much else to see in his small room, except that there were a lot of destroyed things that had never been cleaned. Marder II had also decided he didn't want to eat or drink ever again (being a tank, that ludicrous decision was not farfetched; well, it was, but it wasn't at the same time); because going to get food &amp; drink would mean going downstairs, and he wanted to avoid contact with his mother if possible. She was a rather unstable woman; Marder II had driven her to insanity, and she pretty much gave up on the world as well.

Marder II only came out of that room to go to school; he normally only went to school for a day or two in a week; his mum didn't care; she didn't want to deal with Marder II's issues. The school didn't seem to care either, which was fine for Marder II. All he wanted to do was stay inside his room and look at images of machines for killing. He always imagined himself as being a great leader; perhaps he could even be a communist. Being a communist leader defeated the point of communism, but he didn't care. He would want his minions to all be free to do whatever they want.

That settled it. He would become a Hetzer and roll into school, capturing even more unliberated souls. He would make it his duty to save all of the tanks from the nefarious teachers. He would be hailed as a hero.

He'd start with the Verdeja.

* * *

"Birch Gun… Birch Gun!" The darkness that was encompassing the calling tank was not from the dark; the tank was in the storage room, and it was too small to get up and flick the light on.

As soon as the tank's brain started to process things, it realised that the storage room was not the place to look for a tank. It swerved around and drove out of the room. Small body, blue, cute gun shield… it was UE 57, and she seemed to be normal again.

"Darn… where is that tank?" she screeched loudly, her anger being released in the form of a high decibel noise coming from her.

Her little wheels spun and she was off, searching for Birch Gun. Unbeknownst to her, Birch Gun was in a hospital ward for badly injured tanks. She didn't think for one second that Birch Gun was lying in a bland white bed, counting away the days that he had to stay in the hospital (and the bed). She thought that he was lingering somewhere around the school… perhaps he was avoiding her. Oh no! UE 57 never came to the realisation that she had said something and it had hurt him – even turned him into a wreck of metal. She didn't know that she was lying to herself.

UE 57 wondered what she had been doing for the past week. She didn't remember anything from the previous few days; it perplexed her. Normally her memory was great; she could normally remember specific things from ages ago. It was very confusing. She decided to just drive on, thinking about all of the nice things in life.

It didn't work. UE 57 found herself thinking about her memory again. It was very peculiar that she had lost all of her memory of the past week. It was like she had been hypnotised and told to forget all of the information that was going on in her little brain.

It was very early in the morning; UE 57 had rushed to school as soon as she woke up, hoping to find Birch Gun. She didn't expect to find him instantly, as he came into the school later than she did normally.

The reason for her theory about Birch Gun being in the school… well, there weren't any reasons. UE 57 wasn't exactly thinking straight; she had been brainwashed for just over a week, after all. Her brain tried to process all of the thoughts that were attempting to store up, but the brain didn't want to. It decided to release all of the thoughts in the form of a violent explosion, and that caused UE 57 to topple over like a baby trying to walk.

She was in fact unconscious in the middle of an obscure hallway in the back of the school; she might as well have been on the second floor; nobody would notice her either way.

Sometime later, there was a rumbling in the hall where UE 57 was situated. Much to UE 57's luck, there was a tank driving down the hallway. The tank looked old and tired; it was driving at a Mark I's pace. The tank was an IS-3; he looked like he had seen some ferocious battles in its time. On the side of his scratched hull was a walking stick roped onto the side. On his turret roof was a small little black hat with a tattered grey band around it. The hat looked like it had been shot by a machine gun.

The IS-3 spotted UE 57 lying on her side in the middle of the hall; upon seeing her, the IS-3 sighed and started to drive towards her. The Russian machine didn't really want to help her, but she looked like she was in significant trouble. If she was found and IS-3 was discovered driving past her, there would be a lot of trouble.

IS-3 began the process of saving by taking out the walking stick and poking UE 57 with it. There was a clang, but there wasn't any life. In an act of frustration, IS-3 forcefully picked up UE 57 and threw her onto his hull roof. He then swerved round, intent on going to the nurse… very slowly. He attempted to use his tangled wooden walking stick to drag him along faster, but it did nothing. A beaten old stick wasn't going to push 49.1 tons.

Eventually, IS-3 and UE 57 returned back to civilisation; even with the IS-3's blurred optics, he could still see young tanks everywhere. He wanted to stop every single one of them and discipline them for driving fast in the halls; IS-3 had not aged well. He was still in a frame of mind where tanks were caned for doing insignificant things. He wanted to clobber that T-50 that had just zoomed past him on the turret roof for speeding, but he couldn't.

He used to be the head teacher of the school; he was an intellectual IS-2M tank who was nice to everyone and considerate; but, his age was showing. Eventually, his brain was going, and he couldn't be the head teacher anymore. He stepped down to become a history teacher, but then Tiger I came, and he was obsolete. He tried to teach geography, but Tiger I did that as well.

He was still working at the school; he had begun working there fifty years ago, when he was a little IS-1. He even remembered going to the school as a T-28; back then, school was very different.

He had seen the school crash and burn with the introduction of Leopard 1 as the head teacher: he was mad, mean, inconsiderate, and his tie didn't go well with his colour. Leopard 1 had demoted him to being a crazed old caretaker; and that was what he was. He did the worst care taking possible, but Leopard 1 didn't care.

All he wanted was money.

**Note: I know this chapter is shorter (4,000 words) compared to the other recent ones (5,000 words), but I don't think it matters. There's not much I could add to this chapter anyway. The next ones will be 5,000 words as usual.**


	20. A Festive Finish (not exactly)

Birch Gun found himself in that darned room again; the same medical ward he had been in for the last five days. It had been a heavy five days, considering that he had had a lot of operations. It was Christmas Eve, and it seemed that Birch Gun would be in a hospital for the festivity. A few weeks ago, he imagined himself getting a brand new module for Christmas; perhaps a new radio or a great new paintjob. He was getting muddy. Maybe he could have even gotten the track changer thing that T57 had. Heh… he was joking. If he had to choose, it would be the gun varnish.

He looked as Claudia frantically went from tank to tank, trying to calm them down. The ward had gotten some new arrivals today; they were whiny, annoying tanks who did not know when to shut up. Even Birch Gun, the naïve tank, noticed that Claudia was getting overwhelmed by their requests. They constantly said they were bleeding oil or something, so Claudia had to go and check. After that, they would say they had a bad turretache. Claudia would be summoned back again. They just sought out attention from every tank; including Birch Gun. Birch Gun wasn't a nurse, so he didn't feel obligated to comfort the hooligans.

Birch Gun would just ignore them as they tried to get his attention, intending to annoy him, patronise him or some other obnoxious activity. Birch Gun wanted to turn his turret around and blast one of their turrets off, but he resisted doing that. He would be sent out of hospital (yay!), but he'd also be thrown in prison (no!), so that wasn't a good idea. He decided he would just wait until he was allowed to exit by himself.

His mother had visited him over several days; he did give Birch Gun his iPad that somehow wasn't crushed by the debris. T57 messaged him the instant he came onto TankLive Instant Messenger. He hadn't spoken to him since M5A1 Stuart had sworn at her in several languages. Initially it was only Chinese, but Birch Gun (and T57) learnt that day how many languages M5A1 Stuart knew.

"hey… birch gun! are you okay?!" was the message he received upon logging onto the app. Birch Gun flashed the window up and prepared to reply. He didn't know how he would explain the situation with him being thrown into a cauldron of oil and M5A1 Stuart taking his iPad and wreaking havoc on it.

"T57: I need to tell you some things. It'll be a long story," Birch Gun replied. It instantly seemed that T57's relationship with Birch Gun wasn't damaged by the messages. It looked like T57 didn't see them or she just ignored them.

"ok… but first, wht were those messages about? the 1s tht had a lot of wierd words… like from a diff language," she typed back.

Birch Gun tried to read her message as best as he could, but it was impossible for him. The other ones were rather hard to read, but this one was impossible. He decided that he would take a few minutes to decipher the code. When he finally did, he made out, "Okay… but first, what were those messages about? The ones that had a lot of weird words… like from a different language."

It seemed right to him, but you couldn't ever be sure with T57. He sighed and finally responded, "It's okay. My iPad was hijacked by a crazy tank, and she sent you those messages in different languages. I wouldn't use a translator; it's fine. Nothing you need to see…"

The next thing that T57 did was boot up a translator and paste the text into the translator. It automatically detected the language and then it displayed the message that M5A1 Stuart had sent. The next message that T57 sent was, "eww."

"birch gun, i didn't no u felt that way about me…," T57 typed back. She was stationed in her small room; her house was in Tankville; not far away from Birch Gun's house. They didn't know they lived a few streets away from each other.

"Whatever was in those messages: don't believe it," Birch Gun replied. He felt rather awkward; he didn't know what was in those messages, and he didn't really want to know. He knew that M5A1 Stuart was a crazy, angry tank who was content with torturing tanks, just like ARL 44. Birch Gun had to stay away from her for the time, but he knew one day, he'd have his revenge. He'd scare her off with some real tricks. Hopefully it wouldn't come to violence…

"so u don't love me?" T57 replied. If sadness could be put into a string of text, it would be exhibited to Birch Gun rather heavily. Birch Gun didn't know what to say next; he didn't know the girl very well… he'd just wing it.

"I didn't say that," Birch Gun began. He took a deep breath and then he continued to type. "I mean, I don't want to do whatever she said I would do to you…"

"ok… this is gtn kinda wierd now," T57 sent back. "anyways, who is she? i'll teach her a lesson"

"Yeah… I don't think that will work. She's a mean tank who would do anything to anyone."

"like what she put in the text?"

"Uh… probably not that."

* * *

Birch Gun wasn't sure if T57's threat was real or not. She seemed like a serious tank, though it was hard for Birch Gun to take her seriously with that grammar and spelling. If the threat was real, Birch Gun would happily tag along with her to teach M5A1 Stuart a lesson. Birch Gun was thinking about splashing the Chinese vehicle with water; that was a good prank. Maybe it'd make her go all rusty and rigid. Then Birch Gun would be the one laughing.

If M5A1 Stuart were to play a prank on any tank, what would it be like? It'd probably involve death, of course. When Birch Gun thought of tricks, he thought of Marder II. Marder II liked to play tricks; especially on UE 57, his personal pet. Birch Gun was prepared to liberate UE 57 from her state after he got out of the state he was in.

It wouldn't be that simple, though. Marder II seemed to be adept at combat skills and strategy. The failures in P.E. were probably on purpose; he was concealing himself and his evil deeds until the time was right. The time was right when UE 57 decided to leap into his trap. Now he was probably sucking even more innocent tanks into his command. He'd soon have an army, and that army would be used to destroy Birch Gun first; the teachers would come later.

He was worried; Marder II was a clever tank; if not slightly crazy. He was extremely aggressive to any tank who wasn't his brethren; however, there was a problem with that: he had no brethren except his pet. UE 57 was too hypnotised to rebel against her leader; her brain was corrupted for the most part. She would eventually be saved – perhaps with T57's help.

* * *

Eventually, IS-3 and UE 57 made it to the nurse; a familiar place for some reason. IS-3 opened the door to see the nurse. She was shocked when she saw IS-3; a tank she hadn't seen in ages. She wanted to greet him, but he merely wanted to plonk UE 57 down and continue with his plodding down the hallways of the school. After IS-3 left, the German tank placed her on the table to take a look at her.

"UE 57? Are you there?" she asked. There was no reply.

Suddenly, a little noise came out of her. It sounded like a groan, but KV-IA thought she was trying to say, "Yes". She took it as a sign of life.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I-I don't know… I was in a hallway…," UE 57 replied. Her gun shield felt light. She herself didn't know what happened; perhaps that hallway was poisoned… what an absurd thought! IS-3 was in there and he wasn't falling. Perhaps it was the loss of memory… her brain was dying.

In fact, it was Marder II's meddling. Her recovery wasn't complete; she would need isolation from Marder II for that. The truth was that Marder II was only temporarily gone; he went off to upgrade himself. UE 57 had wondered where he had gone; she had seen him as that friend who was slightly strange. She didn't know that she was being controlled by her "friend". If she did, her "friend" would no longer be a "friend"; he'd be "dead".

"Very strange," KV-IA replied. "Did you do anything that would warrant you going unconscious?"

"No… I don't think so. I came here in the morning to look for Birch Gun. I went in some random hall… I assume I fell or something."

"Birch Gun? He went to the local hospital. He was in a really bad condition," KV-IA spoke with a sad tone. She was worried for Birch Gun.

"R-Really?!" UE 57 squeaked. UE 57 genuinely did not know what happened to Birch Gun, as she was in a state of hypnotisation during the incident. She assumed ARL 44 had got to him again; only this time, it was seriously serious. She tried her hardest to think, but she couldn't. Her memory was totally blank.

There was no use trying. She wasn't going to remember, regardless of her attempts to fish the memory back from the pond. She just gave up and listened to the nurse.

"You seem fine," KV-IA spoke. Perhaps IS-3 was going crazy; he took UE 57 and dragged her into the room… maybe he was hallucinating. Wait… no… then UE 57 wouldn't be saying this.

KV-IA was deep in thought when UE 57 interrupted her deep thought process by saying, "What happened to Birch Gun?"

It took a second for KV-IA to respond, "You know the big hallway with the huge glass dome above it?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"The big bully KV-2 shot at the roof while Birch Gun was under it. It ended up cracking and cascading onto Birch Gun. KV-5 found him and stuck his emergency cork up his gun. KV-2 ended up getting expelled from the school, but knowing Leopard 1, I'm sure he'll be back soon…"

UE 57 was dumbfounded. The rogue KV-2 shot down a roof and it landed on Birch Gun? How did she miss that? How can't she remember anything? Where is Marder II? UE 57's thoughts were revolving all around in her brain; she couldn't focus on a single one before it went onto another thought. She was feeling light in her gun shield again; as if she was about to faint.

She fought back the thoughts, returning to normal. She finally murmured, "I think I feel fine now. I ought to go visit Birch Gun…"

"Good idea; I'm sure he'll still be in there…"

UE 57 jumped up and drove off the panel. KV-IA said goodbye as UE 57 opened the door to go outside. She now needed to get to her lesson...

She used to be able to remember her timetable off by heart, but in this instance she needed to check it. It would all pop back into her mind upon her reading it again, and it did. The lesson was maths: one of the most boring. She sighed and drove to the maths room. As she got to the hall, she looked at the big mound of rubble that had fallen on Birch Gun.

_Gosh… that's a lot of rubble… how wasn't he crushed?_ she thought as she drove past it. She made a turn and ended up next to the door of the maths room. She was just about to open it, but a tank did it for her. She looked at the tank; it was a Hetzer. He knocked UE 57 back into the hall, making a loud screeching sound. She did a spin. When she recovered, she saw Hetzer looking straight at her. She then made a connection: Marder II was gone because he was upgrading himself!

"M-Marder II! Is that you?" UE 57 squawked.

Hetzer immediately noticed UE 57; she wasn't under his spell! As if he was a robot, he trumpeted, "Resistance is futile, tank. Prepare!"

UE 57 didn't know what he was saying; she thought it was a joke. She played along with the supposed joke as Hetzer prepared his spell again. UE 57 drove forward into the room, but Hetzer used himself as a shield, knocking UE 57 back out of the room and into a wall. Hetzer slammed the door shut (KV-5 was asleep, so he didn't hear) and then he drove towards UE 57 slowly and sinisterly.

"M-Marder II! What are you doing?!" UE 57 was in peril now; Hetzer's hypnotisation spell was almost ready to launch, and UE 57 was defenceless. UE 57 watched as the opposing tank destroyer's gun flashed. UE 57 instantly felt pain; her track was destroyed. Now there was no escaping.

"Marder! Are you out of your mind?!" UE 57 screamed. Hetzer turned towards the maths room; there was a teacher in there, who was probably busy being asleep. The noise was loud enough for any tank inside that room to hear. UE 57 wanted to know what the other tanks in the room made of the din.

Hetzer's tracks did the work, making him swivel round again.

UE 57 was desperate to escape; she'd try a shell on Hetzer. Even if it didn't penetrate, it would distract Hetzer for a moment. Out of UE 57's barrel came a small shell, but it did nothing to the sloped armour of Hetzer except scratch it… and that was a small scratch. Hetzer laughed at UE 57's pathetic attempt to save herself. Even though resistance was futile as Hetzer had said, UE 57 didn't stop trying. She was constantly loading shells to fire at anywhere on the savage tank destroyer. In the hallway, there were constant booms and constant sparks of light. All of the shells that hit Hetzer merely bounced off harmlessly; it tickled him.

UE 57 no longer saw Hetzer/Marder II as a friend; she saw that he was a crazy tank who was prepared to torture his "friend" for whatever reason. She would call it torture; Hetzer would call it mobilisation. She was going to be another unit in his army; another pawn on the chessboard. Hetzer was just about to begin the process, but he saw a long Russian tank driving in the hallway where the rubble was. It avoided the fallen roof; it was going to the maths lesson!

Hetzer focused his optics on the tank; it was a T-28; probably the one from earlier. He was accompanied by a D.W. 2; definitely the one from earlier. They were both presumably messing around, which made them late for the maths lesson. This was bad for Hetzer; they would see what was happening…

Hetzer needed to eliminate them before they turned their turrets to see. The T-28 saw UE 57 first; recognising her as the rogue one who had destroyed their target. A quick exchange of words between the two friends, and they were on UE 57's tail… except she wasn't moving. Hetzer got his gun ready to fire as T-28 drove forwards. Hetzer took aim; he needed to take his time.

T-28 had no idea what Hetzer was doing; he just wanted to reason with UE 57. He didn't see the gaping barrel before it exploded. A shell spun through the air; T-28 didn't have time to react; the shell was already slicing his hull. Hetzer had timed it perfectly; he knew where he was aiming. T-28 felt immense pain as the shell lodged itself in his ammo rack, detonating it instantly. Hetzer laughed manically as T-28's turret decided to go flying. It landed on the floor, creating an intense clang.

"Ha!" he laughed mockingly. "Do you think tickling me with your feeble shells will work?! Fools! I will crush you!" Hetzer yelled; he was livid. "Also, I'm not ticklish! Twits!" he growled with hatred.

UE 57 had watched it all. He now knew that his former friend was loopy; she needed to get away! But she couldn't; her track was destroyed, and she didn't have a repair kit. She saw the D.W. 2 attempt to place T-28's turret back on his hull; as if that would do anything. UE 57 heard the screams and cries of the D.W. 2 mourning his lost friend. He just about forgot about Hetzer; he remembered he was there again when he received a shell in his drive wheel.

Hetzer stuffed another shell into the cannon breech. He couldn't miss this shot. D.W. 2 fired off a sorrowful shot towards Hetzer, but it ricocheted off his side, pinging into the wall beside UE 57. She was lucky that that shot hadn't gone into her gun shield. She flinched upon almost receiving the five centimetre shell.

D.W. 2 boomed again, releasing a shell out of the barrel. Hetzer simply shrugged it off, returning with a shell of his own. D.W. 2 didn't feel much before his turret was off its ring. Hetzer reloaded swiftly; he was expecting another tank to come round the corner. However, there were no more tanks.

Hetzer laughed crazily as the German heavy tank's turret mashed the floor with its weight. More destruction. Hetzer loved destruction; everything about it made him squeal like a fan boy. He loved killing even more; it gave him a tingly feeling. He liked to squeeze their last breath out of them.

Now for UE 57. He did a turn, facing UE 57 again. She observed the little scratches on his paint; those were from the opposition; the evil creatures in his eyes. He felt like he had to free UE 57 of the dangers that faced them; the T-28 and D.W. 2 were part of that organisation. UE 57 was saved. Now she will be in his army of liberators to help save the school from the corrupted educators – the teachers. Hetzer was determined to destroy any tank that stood in his way – and his following.

"Don't worry dearie; you'll be safe!" Hetzer shouted. It was ready

"No—stop it, Ma-a-aaa…," UE 57 didn't have time to tell him to stop (as if he would do that) before she was back under the spell. It was unclear how Hetzer did it; but it was clear how he would take over the school. Hetzer knew that UE 57 was easy to capture; it was easy to take control of her; her mind wasn't exactly strong.

"UE 57?" Hetzer inquired in a firm way.

"Yes… leader?" UE 57 replied in a monotone voice. It was as if she was a robot, programmed to do everything Hetzer says.

Hetzer at once knew that he had succeeded. UE 57 was once again under his command; he could tell her to do anything he desired; he could even tell her to take some explosives and blow herself up.

"UE 57," Hetzer spoke firmly again.

"Wha…wh… what, great leader?" UE 57 spoke in a rather unstable robotic voice. It seemed that Hetzer didn't notice the inconsistency in UE 57's voice; for a second it was normal.

"Find some bombs and blow yourself up," the "great leader" commanded. UE 57 initially hesitated to do anything, until Hetzer continued, "Don't find some bombs and don't blow yourself up."

"Okay… great leader…," UE 57 murmured.

Hetzer fixed up her track with a repair kit; he did it perfectly. The track links were perfect; it was something that UE 57 could never do perfectly. She drove in a circle to test if the tracks were working; they did. UE 57 was able to drive once again.

"UE 57. Go into the maths room," Hetzer ordered. UE 57 obeyed his command instantly, driving into the door. The door rammed open, smashing into the wall beside it forcefully.

* * *

It was lunch time, and Hetzer and UE 57 were eating together. Hetzer had told her to sit near him, and she obeyed. Hetzer was eating a weld sandwich, and UE 57 was eating some bolts; copper flavour. She liked them the most. As she was chomping away, the siren went off. UE 57 noticed that most of the tanks in the cafeteria got up and got out of the door; there were lots of tanks. It was like a river. UE 57 wanted to get up and stretch her tracks, but Hetzer told her to sit down sternly.

Hetzer leaned in on the table and started to whisper to UE 57; he made sure none of the other tanks who were still eating listened in on their super private conversation.

"We need to talk," Hetzer spoke quietly; just loud enough for UE 57 to hear. UE 57 didn't reply, so Hetzer just continued talking. "I've made a plan; you know how corrupted this school is…"

UE 57 didn't feel like talking about the school being corrupt, so she once again said nothing. Hetzer wasn't exactly expecting a reply; she was brainwashed after all, and she hadn't been programmed to talk without being hostile.

"Well… I've made an excellent plan. I'm going to raise an army of young, independent tanks such as you, and we're going to take over the school and turn it into a paradise for all tanks… except teachers," The last part of the speech was tinged with hate and remorse. It sounded as if Hetzer wanted to take all of the teachers in the school and toss them into a dark fiery pit, never to be seen again.

It chilled UE 57 to think about going through with this plan, considering that she was the only member of his 'army'… wait a minute… she was thinking for herself! She wasn't hypnotised! Hetzer's 'spell' must have failed on her…

That was why she was actually moving by herself instead of being controlled. She was shocked that she hadn't realised earlier; perhaps she had hypnotised herself temporarily. Now she had to act, otherwise Hetzer would know something was up. She realised again that she was acting, unbeknownst to herself when she hadn't discovered that she wasn't hypnotised.

"It'll be amazing!" Hetzer continued while UE 57 was in a state of intense thinking. "This school could be a haven for all types of tanks alike! Except foul artillery; their very presence annoys me."

UE 57 then thought about Birch Gun; he was probably lying in that bed, dying. UE 57 wanted to cry, but that would mean Hetzer would notice emotion; UE 57 assumed that Hetzer didn't program emotions into her; in fact, if there were any, the emotions would be hate, greed and abhorrence; all of which were negative.

After school, UE 57 planned to creep away and try and find Birch Gun in the Tankville Hospital; she assumed that he would be in there. UE 57 would have a lot of explaining to do; even more with the recently acquired information. She would hopefully escape from Hetzer after they had stopped eating; since Hetzer was no longer a Marder II, his view range was toned down; he was rather blind. UE 57 would be able to slip away without Hetzer knowing.

When UE 57 woke up from her daydream, Hetzer was speaking. It seemed he had been droning on for ages; long enough to make UE 57 feel drowsy. In fact, UE 57 was prepared to take a blanket from somewhere, place it on her and have a snooze. But she couldn't do that; she was 'hypnotised'. So she just continued to listen.

"The next member of our great army will be the nefarious Spaniard," Hetzer spoke like he was an army general discussing battle tactics; he had that tone of voice. Perhaps Hetzer thought he was an army general; he was in fact merely a rather delusional tank who had adept skills with manipulation.

"The one who insulted us by existing! She has driven into her own fate. UE 57, you will distract her, and I will 'convince' her to join our army," Hetzer gleamed with ambition as he spoke. He was genuinely going forward with the insane plan he had created.

UE 57 feared for Birch Gun the most; Hetzer had already proved to be ruthless and bloodthirsty; what could he do to Birch Gun? Birch Gun was temporarily protected from Hetzer's advances; Hetzer wouldn't go to hospital and then attack Birch Gun, who was under supervision? Surely Hetzer wouldn't be that stupid.

"UE 57!" Hetzer shouted aggressively. UE 57 snapped out of her thinking state, looking at Hetzer directly. She was afraid that she had broken her cover, but it didn't seem she had. Hetzer was rather oblivious… but then he began to think. UE 57 hadn't been programmed to go off into a daydream… oh well.

"On the count of one, two and three, I want you to rush off and find the Spanish creature. Convince her to come here, and I will capture her," Hetzer whispered; he was once again calm. UE 57 wondered how he did that; a few seconds ago, it looked like there was black smoke emitting from his gun out of intense anger.

"One… two… three! Go!" Hetzer yelled. UE 57 threw herself off the seat, landing on the floor. Her tracks spun like an overexcited hamster on its wheel; she raced off, speeding outside of the cafeteria. After she was out of Hetzer's sight, she slowed down, her small tracks grinding into the floor. The ear-shattering sound that accompanied it didn't sound good for her tracks.

She prepared to drive off, but she got interrupted by a tap in the back of her hull. She turned round to see the Spanish tank that Hetzer was talking about earlier; it was Cadence, and she was rather angry.

Cadence wanted to talk about how she needed a lot of repairs to get her back to how she was before: all because of UE 57. Cadence had never been so angry at a tank before; it was like the sheer mediocrity of the school was affecting her. All of the bad factors combined into one, giant behemoth that ate Cadence up and spat her out as an enraged tank.

After Cadence's display of exasperated anger, UE 57 replied, "I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about," She did try her hardest to remember who this tank was; it seemed that she had been mistaken. "I think you've mistaken me for another tank."

"No! You were with the Marder II – he's upgraded into a Hetzer now; I saw him!"

Hetzer was still in the cafeteria, waiting for UE 57 to come with Cadence; but she never arrived. Hetzer heard a familiar voice echoing outside of the cafeteria, so he decided to check to see if anything was happening. He got up from the seat and drove out of the cafeteria. He initially wanted to go one way, but he was interrupted by two tanks getting angry at each other. He turned round to see Cadence and UE 57 fighting.

"Excellent job, UE 57!" Hetzer applauded before grabbing Cadence from the back. UE 57 drove back as Hetzer pulled a screaming Cadence into a nearby closet. UE 57 watched as the door slammed shut; and how all of the tanks nearby didn't care; they just went about with their business, as if it was a normal thing to happen at Tank Academy. UE 57 didn't particularly like the introduction of that tank; being accused of things that she didn't even do was not a very friendly hello.

Still, she had to help the tank. She drove forward, spotting a tank that she recognised – it was Panzer I Ausf. C! Perhaps she could help, because UE 57 needed to keep her cover.

UE 57 knew that Panzer loved gossip; she could gobble all of it up in a single second, and still ask for more. She decided to use this to her advantage by saying, "Hey! Panzer I C!"

Panzer I C's brakes activated and she made a quick stop, sliding along the floor, narrowly avoiding the wall. She spun round swiftly, driving to UE 57. She was excited to see her friend; she hadn't seen UE 57 for a long time. "Hello, UE 57!" She wanted to babble on about gossip that she had taken from the dark depths of the school, but UE 57 had other ideas.

"If you want more gossip Panzer I C, just check in that closet," UE 57 pointed to the closet that Cadence and Hetzer were clobbering each other in.

"Ooo!" Panzer made a high squeak; she sounded like UE 57 when she did that. She didn't waste any time; she drove into the door directly, trying to push it open. She was shocked when she was knocked back; there was significant resistance on that door. She tried to bash it open again, but the same result happened; she was knocked back, only with more force.

Panzer I C didn't need to open the door however, because it opened itself when Hetzer broke it down by being knocked back by Cadence's sheer force. UE 57 was shocked; Cadence was still fighting Hetzer! UE 57 realised how strong Cadence was as she knocked Hetzer backed back into the wall. UE 57 knew at once that Cadence wouldn't be captured by Hetzer's hypnotisation; she was too strong for that.

Hetzer's gun released a shell with a big boom, but Cadence luckily dodged it, just narrowly avoiding becoming a tank pudding. The shell connected with the wall, penetrating through it and creating a hole. There was a clang and a loud scream; it came from the cafeteria. Hetzer instantly realised that he had accidentally hit somebody when the shell went through the wall.

A very angry looking tank stormed out of the cafeteria, ramming the doors open. Hetzer immediately disappeared, racing into another corridor, not to be seen again until the next day. He suspected who the raging tank was – it was Leopard 1; his blue striped tie was flapping about as he yelled lividly, "WHO SHOT ME?!"

Not expecting an answer, he rushed off into a random corridor, attempting to find Hetzer (who had hidden in the toilet).

Cadence and UE 57 were just left there staring at each other; Panzer I C had retreated as soon as Hetzer had barged out.

"Well… that was eventful," UE 57 muttered.


	21. Deceived

_Another day in this room_, Birch Gun thought as he looked at his iPad. He looked at the app that was open on it – TankLive Instant Messenger. He watched as another badly written message popped up onto the screen. It was from T57.

"so yeah, my plan is to come over to u and wait for the tank to appear. then ill pop out and defeat it"

Birch Gun read the message, and then typed back, "I'm not sure if that will work. The tank is rather evil; I think she'd be the one doing the defeating." He wondered if his reply was a good idea.

"how dare u! ill have u know that ive served in the us army n wrekt 70 lite tanks!" T57 replied. She wondered if her reply was a good idea.

Birch Gun tapped into his brain and remembered a very specific piece of information. "But you've said you've never battled before…," was his reply.

"well i lied! ha!" T57 triumphantly replied. Birch Gun was defeated; T57 was now pulling the strings. She was the commander of lyi—being truthful.

Birch Gun didn't believe her, deciding to interrogate her. "Okay then… which light tanks have you wrecked?"

"um…," T57 replied. She put down her Tanksung Universe T5 phone and quickly checked her surroundings for any light tanks. She then realised that she was in her room, so she couldn't find anything. "brb," was her next reply. She went on YouTank to look up some light tanks.

Birch Gun sighed, looking at his iPad, waiting for the next reply. After ten minutes of playing Clashing Clan Wars (his Turret Tower had just upgraded), a notification popped up on his screen. Birch Gun flashed up TankLive Instant Messenger, spotting T57's message.

"ive killed 20 t50s, 2 aufklasprung panzers, 6 t-54 lightweights, a lotta AMX 13 90s…," T57 began. She tapped on her screen excitedly as she looked over her list of light tanks. "i also killed a messyschmit me 262!" T57 felt proud for the things she hadn't done.

Birch Gun found a discrepancy with her story telling. He reviewed the message that T57 had sent. "Messyschmit" Me 262… that wasn't a tank, was it? Birch Gun had seen such a thing flying in the sky at the Warplanes of the World Air Show in Ruskie – which was a total failure and embarrassment. There weren't any British planes (which insulted Birch Gun) and half of the planes were fake. He heard that the latest air show had British planes; but everyone had given up hope on it by that time.

Birch Gun decided to look up this Messyschmit "tank" on his iPad's search engine. The iPad didn't like the word 'messyschmit', so it transformed it into Messerschmitt Me 262, which was a German jet fighter aircraft. Birch Gun instantly then knew she was lying, as planes in the world of tanks were rare.

Birch Gun went back on the messenger app, seeing more of T57's absurd messages. She now said that she had destroyed 1,000,000 tanks in total; most of them were light tanks. Birch Gun looked at the messages; only to see she had finally changed the subject. Birch Gun sighed in relief and actually started reading the messages without metaphorically dying.

"ive decided that im gonna visit u in hospytall," T57 typed. "where r u?"

Birch Gun was surprised that he was going to get a visitor. He assumed that nobody knew or cared that he disappeared because well… he's Birch Gun.

Birch Gun replied back, "I'm in the Tankville Hospital."

"ok!" T57's message appeared almost instantly after. "ill be there after school. t92 has let me have a day off"

Birch Gun lay his iPad down, looking at the ceiling and waiting for her to come. However… there was going to be an extra visitor.

* * *

Meanwhile in Tank Academy, Matilda and Matilda IV were sitting at a table in the cafeteria. Matilda IV was talking behind other tanks' backs while Matilda II was in a state of thinking; thinking about Birch Gun. Was she too horrible to him and other tanks? When she thought about it, her only friends were Panzer I C and Matilda IV; Matilda IV always laughed with her and talked to her all of the time; but Panzer I C seemed a bit aloof. It seemed that she was avoiding her for some reason; everyone was. Matilda originally thought it was because the rose on her turret was the wrong colour, so she got a red one, but still other tanks didn't like her. Then she had to go deeper.

Since she had no knowledge of emotions (as she was as thoughtless as it gets), she didn't know why everyone hated her. It was mainly because of her nefarious nature; she turned other tanks' emotions from happy to sad, angry or frustrated; of course, those weren't the only emotions. There was also enraged, berserk, vindictive or inflamed, just to name a few.

Matilda finally decided to listen to her Lend-Leased companion. She was bad mouthing other tanks who were driving around in the cafeteria. There was a little MS-1 driving along the floor; the poor thing looked lost. It looked like he had somehow gotten out of the nursery into the main school building. He drove along aimlessly while Matilda IV cackled at him, laughing at his misfortune. As the MS-1 exited the cafeteria, a disgruntled Spähpanzer Ru 251 chased after the young tank, crashing into a wall and knocking herself out.

The other tanks in the cafeteria looked at the knocked out teacher. Some of them stifled laughs, but Matilda IV couldn't. Her witchlike cackle descended into full laughter. She did it for about ten seconds straight before Matilda II covered her gun, and the laughing became muffled.

After that fiasco, Matilda IV looked for more tanks to insult. Her turret slowly trailed in the direction of a Covenanter who was minding his own business, casually drinking a can of Coca Tanka.

"Ha!" Matilda IV bellowed, preparing to mock the British cruiser. "Look at that идиот, Matilda!"

The Covenanter heard her; he assumed that she was talking about him. He decided to ignore her as he had things to do, but Matilda IV beckoned him over, speaking to him in Russian. Matilda II had heard this kind of speech before; it was the same words that Matilda IV used when she was angry at somebody. The Covenanter slowly drove towards her; right into Matilda IV's trap. He was curious about the Russian; a language he hadn't heard before.

"Whatta you want, lass?" the Covenanter asked, making Matilda II cringe. His Scottish accent was too much to bear. Matilda IV was beginning to fire up a returning statement; probably with some Russian swear word in it.

"Oh, are you Scottish?" Matilda IV asked in a fake innocent, warm tone. Matilda II had also heard this before.

"Yes I am, lassie," the Covenanter replied. He added, "Aye need to go now; me mum is picking me up fer the rifling dentist." With that, his two tracks spun and he began to make off to the reception where a certain Centurion was waiting for him. However, Matilda wouldn't let him go that easily.

Matilda IV checked if there were any teachers in the room; upon a quick inspection, Matilda found none in the room. There weren't many students left in the room either, which helped. Matilda IV caught Matilda's gaze; they were both thinking the exact same thing – but Matilda II wasn't thinking of doing it. Matilda IV saw the Covenanter going off; she got off her seat, sliding onto the marble floor and firing off a shell onto the Covenanter's tracks. The seventy-six millimetre shell pounded into the track links, tearing them apart and rendering them useless.

"Aye! Lass – what're ye doin'?!" the Covenanter yelled in a fit of confusion. His drive wheels spun, but to no effect. He was stuck – with a Matilda IV on his tail.

"You think you'll get away, пижон?" Matilda IV snarled. "You are a fool! Дурак!"

"What! What are ye sayin'?" Covenanter grittily replied. "Why don't ye just speak English?" With that, Covenanter tried to drive – but all he did was spin around to face Matilda IV.

"Xaxaxa! I don't need to speak English – when I can be speaking Russian, you illiterate шкура! Why don't you go and learn Russian – then you'll understand me!" Matilda IV was indirectly insulting Matilda II, who said multiple times that she'd learn Russian just for Matilda IV's sake. She'd rather spend her nights studying French, which was nicer sounding in Matilda's opinion; and that was the only thing that mattered…

Covenanter saw no point in trying to argue with a tank like that, so he reached for the box on the side of his hull, taking it and opening it. Inside was a repair kit for situations like this. He didn't seem happy that he had to spend three thousand credits for something like this. He preferred to use his consumables in battles…

Covenanter sighed and took out his repair kit, attempting to fix his broken track. He assumed that Matilda IV would get bored and drive away, but Matilda IV wasn't like that. Unfortunately for the Scottish cruiser, she had loaded a high explosive shell and was training her gun on the repair kit.

There was a sudden spike of confusion for Covenanter when his repair kit seemed to implode, but he looked back to Matilda IV and her smoking gun, connecting the dots. He growled angrily, choosing to deal with the situation. He had his own gun: the forty millimetre Bofors Mk. VI variant. He didn't expect the gun to do much to Matilda except scratch her paint; and it did merely that.

Matilda IV took his measly gun firing at her as an insult; now it was war. Matilda II watched as Matilda IV mercilessly punched through Covenanter's thin armour, making him yelp in pain. His tiny gun made small flashes as his shells spun out of the gun – and descended onto the floor as they bounced off of Matilda's thick armour.

Covenanter cried for help as Matilda IV loaded her gun again, firing at another box on the side of his hull. It went straight through it; making a sickly splattering sound and making something trickle out of the hole the shell made.

"Och! Me haggis!" Covenanter screamed; not because his armour was shot through, but because his halftrack engine haggis had just been destroyed. It didn't take long for the shell to completely penetrate through him, passing into the engine and causing his body to burst into flames. Amongst the flames was a fire extinguisher; Covenanter scrambled for it and prepared to use it, but Matilda IV ended his dreams by shooting that as well. The explosion of foam went all over Covenanter; spraying on everything but his blazing engine.

Matilda II looked at Matilda IV in disgust; she had done some pretty mean things, but not to this level… She then finally realised that this tank was once her, but without the killing. Matilda II snapped out of her state of dreaming and saw the knocked out Covenanter. It didn't look like he was dead; Matilda IV hadn't intended for him to die.

"He just needed a bit of a scare, that's all." Matilda IV laughed as if she had just made a funny joke instead of potentially hospitalising a tank. Matilda II wanted to get away as quick as possible so she would not be blamed for the incident.

"I had to do that. He was annoying me," Matilda IV added calmly, looking at the flaming corpse. "It's merely an indentation."

Matilda II looked back at Covenanter. "It doesn't look like that to me. He looks rather… well… dead."

"Do you really think I'd kill somebody in school, Matilda?" Matilda IV replied, making a big hearty laugh. After she stopped, she spoke again. "Maybe in a battle, but not here. I'm not a crazy person."

Matilda II had doubts about that.

* * *

Matilda II and Matilda IV were driving aimlessly out on the school field. Matilda IV was dreaming of becoming a Churchill III and Matilda II was dreaming of being liked by people. Matilda IV didn't seem to care whether other tanks liked her or not; they all just assumed she was a green version of Matilda II.

Matilda II planned to tell Matilda IV about her plan to become nice, but not yet. Matilda IV noticed that Matilda II was trailing behind her; clearly thinking about something deeply. Matilda IV stopped and reversed next to her, waiting for her to make a move. Her friend merely stood there, staring at the sky. Inside, she was still thinking about friendship and happiness; unknown things to Matilda IV.

"Oi! Anything in there?" Matilda IV asked rhetorically, tapping on the roof of Matilda II's turret with her gun. There was a faint clanging noise, but no reply. Suddenly after, Matilda II awoke and her turret turned to meet Matilda IV's.

"Sorry about that; I was just… thinking." Matilda II spoke soon after her awakening.

"Thinking about what?" Matilda asked. The two tanks drove again in unison.

"About how good it would feel to be nice to other tanks," Matilda replied, voice barely audible. She knew what was about to happen.

Matilda IV personally felt offended by her toxic comment. "How dare you, Matilda! We are horrible tanks, and that will never change!"

Matilda II ignored her, going on. "I think we should be nicer. Especially to Birch Gun; we're always so mean to him," Matilda II continued.

Matilda IV wanted to vomit her lunch, but she resisted the urge to. She stayed still for a few seconds, contemplating what to say. "Ha! Matilda wants the G, doesn't she?" Matilda IV giggled like a little girl.

"Wh-what? What are you talking about?" Matilda inquired, puzzled. She didn't get the joke.

"Matilda wants the G! Matilda wants the G!" Matilda IV repeated herself in a mocking tone. Matilda II didn't understand what she meant, but rage was building up inside her. If Matilda IV continued, she'd blow. She could feel the pressure in her engine building up.

"Matilda wants the G, doesn't she? The Г!" Matilda IV cackled mockingly. "Birch Gun's G!"

Matilda II then knew what she meant; she suddenly became very enraged. She shouted as her metal became hot to the touch; she was getting very angry. Her stressed engine released black smoke; out of pure anger. Matilda IV realised that she was getting very angry and laughed, saying, "There you go! The real Matilda! Angry, hated and cold."

There wasn't much time before Matilda IV screamed in pain as a red-hot APCNR shell from Matilda II tore through her armour at a sonic speed. Matilda IV was shaking from the pain provided by the shell; it wasn't like anything she had felt before. Matilda IV didn't have a shell loaded in her breech; she had to scramble one in there, which took a few seconds. By that time, Matilda had emptied another small shell into Matilda IV. The shells weren't big, but they were small and pointy; it felt like being pinched or stung by a bee.

Matilda IV returned with her own shell, but Matilda II quickly angled herself to the left, making the shell ricochet off her hull. Matilda snarled and shot back; the small shell spun out of the gun and Littlejohn adapter, drilling into Matilda IV's turret and destroying her cannon breech. She cried in pain, being unable to fire any more.

Matilda II spat out the remaining smoke, loading another shell. Matilda IV pleaded for help by screaming, but her voice wasn't working correctly as her cannon breech was destroyed. The only noise she managed was a weak croak.

"That's for ridiculing me a million times!" Matilda shouted. "Well, not exactly a million, BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!" With that, she shot out Matilda IV's track, watching the grass-stained track fall onto the ground. "This is for insulting me in Russian!"

The other tanks on the field didn't really pay attention to their feud as something like this happened almost every day. It was normal. This was a particularly bad situation for Matilda IV; she was in the middle of a field without a repair kit. She didn't carry them because she was too awesome for them (in her mind, of course). As she stood there, she dwelled on the past; she remembered how many times she had insulted Matilda II, ridiculed her for being foolish repeatedly, and insulting her in Russian. She didn't do it at school; rather at home, where Matilda and Matilda IV lived in a house, parallel to each other in a rather small room. Matilda IV's parents were poor; Matilda II lived in their house for a reason that she didn't want to tell anyone about. Nobody liked her enough to know or ask why.

Matilda IV would only speak Russian to her parents; even though they were semi-fluent in English. Matilda spoke French, but no tanks in that house knew that language. Matilda got to know the letters of the Cyrillic alphabet; since Russian was spoken so much in that house, Matilda learnt it a bit, but not enough to understand Matilda IV's parents easily.

Matilda II remembered going on Tankgle Translate and attempting to translate the words spoken by the Russians, but it didn't work well. She didn't attempt to learn Russian because she was too engrossed with French; she had an ongoing relationship with a Somua S35 pen pal in some French school. She remembered him telling her it was called Académie Char.

Now that Matilda II had gone ape on Matilda IV, her parents would certainly not be happy. She wasn't particularly on a good standing with them anyway, which didn't help. She'd definitely be kicked out – and then where would she go? She didn't know whether to regret her decision or not; Matilda IV needed (violent) justice, but perhaps not to that scale.

Matilda decided that she would just drive away as if nothing happened; she would leave Matilda IV to the other tanks to sort out. The fact that she'd need to get a new paintjob because of the ricochet marks annoyed Matilda, but she sussed that it was worth getting revenge on her Russian clone.

Oh well…

* * *

Birch Gun was lying in the bed, waiting for his visitor. The annoying tanks that had been disrupting his act of doing nothing had been moved to a different ward, so those things weren't going to annoy him anymore – or Claudia. Claudia was currently enjoying a cup of tea – as was her superior Hopkins – a tank that seemed quite incompetent to Birch Gun. The SPG could probably do his own job better than him.

Suddenly, the bed perpendicular to Birch Gun started shaking. Birch Gun put down his iPad and lifted himself up to look at the shaking bed; he knew there was a Tetrarch residing in that bed; he must have been having some problems. It took a few seconds for Claudia to see the shaking tank; and upon seeing it, she dropped her cup of tea in fright. She was off that chair rather quickly, immediately attending to the Tetrarch.

"Hopkins! Over here!" she shouted, triggering Hopkins to do the exact same thing; except he put his tea on a table. Birch Gun watched as the silly doctor rose up and drove over to the tremoring Tetrarch. He instantly realised a threat; and started pushing Tetrarch's bed. Claudia looked confused.

"Hopkins – what are you doing?" Claudia asked in a worried tone.

"This chap needs some specialist work done on him. Tally ho!" Hopkins replied excitedly, and then he was off, leaving Claudia in the dust – as usual. Birch Gun watched Hopkins push the wheeled bed past the doors – after he drove backwards because he rammed it into the left one – and off somewhere.

The doors swung back, slamming into the white wall before them. Birch Gun decided to watch them in case T57 came. The doors were just about to stop moving, but they were rammed forward by a small brown vehicle. The tank revealed itself – it was T57, and she was holding a box with wrapping round it.

"Hi!" T57 spoke first. "I brought this for you!" T57 drove forward with the gift; and placed it onto Birch Gun's bed. T57 jumped onto a chair, watching Birch Gun unwrap the gift.

"Aww; you really shouldn't have," Birch Gun told T57 while he was unwrapping the gift. He ripped at it until a small brown box appeared. He shook the box, producing a soft noise. He tore the box open excitedly. Birch Gun took his present out of the box; he instantly loved it.

"Do you like it?" T57 asked. Birch Gun squeezed his new soft FV304 plush toy happily. T57 didn't even need to ask that question; she knew the answer already.

"Thank you!" Birch Gun replied. He set the toy on the cabinet next to his bed.

"How long do you think you'll be in here for?" T57 inquired. T57 texted Birch Gun every day; and she had been counting the days he had been in the hospital. Five days.

"Not that long now…," Birch Gun began. "Probably one or two more days. The doctor said I have to recover. I've had two hull operations and a turret replacement. They didn't have any of my upgraded tracks in stock, so now I've gone back to square one with that. I guess I'll just have to find the upgrading machine in my school and shell out some credits… good thing the THS is a thing in this country."

The two tanks stayed there in companionable silence until T57 realised she was being quiet. She forgot to tell Birch Gun about all of the things that happened at school! Birch Gun could see this coming off from a mile away; and he was bracing himself for the impact of words that was able to bombard him.

T57 took a gigantic breath, preparing herself to talk about the gossip; but her preparing was interrupted by a noise coming from the doors. They swung open, making an even louder slam; the metal handles dug into the wall forcefully, probably damaging something.

T57 turned her chair around to see the tank who had come in. It wasn't Hopkins or any other doctor; it was a British tank. T57 didn't recognise the model, but she could tell that it was British. Birch Gun saw a blurry white smudge, so he focused his optics onto the tank. The shock that went through him when he saw Matilda (with the rose on her turret and everything) was not comparable to many things.

Matilda saw Birch Gun at the same time; she made her way over to him, making Birch Gun suspect something. _What is she doing here?_ he thought.

Matilda stopped near his bed, feeling the cold stare of T57 make her freeze. T57 didn't know who this tank was, but it seemed that she was about to say something obnoxious. Birch Gun felt the same way; he didn't know Matilda well, but he knew that she was prone to being extremely annoying and pompous.

Birch Gun could have said something, but he decided not to; letting Matilda speak first. He looked at her, waiting for her to speak.

"I am very, very sorry," Matilda began. "I shouldn't have been that mean to you. I was always an idiot, but today I have changed. Matilda IV didn't like my change of stance, so I beat her up."

Birch Gun didn't know what to say whilst T57 was whispering, asking who Matilda was.

"All I can say is I hope that we can be friends. I want to build bridges with all of my classmates. Everyone hates me… but hopefully not for long." With that, Matilda swerved around and drove out of the ward, smashing past the doors and almost making one fall off its hinges. Claudia noticed this, driving over to it and trying to make it right.

"These doors have been falling over ever since Hopkins fixed them…," Claudia muttered. She carefully drove past the door; but she merely brushed it and it completely fell off its hinges, falling straight onto Claudia and making her mutter angrily.

"What made her change like that?" Birch Gun thought out loud while T57 bombarded him with questions like, "who was that?" Birch Gun didn't hear her questions because he was in deep procrastination. "If she's serious… then she'd better act upon her speech…"

* * *

The next day…

Hetzer looked at his plans again; they were perfect. He had all of his dastardly plans mapped out on a few pieces of ragged paper. On one piece was Hetzer's organisation that he was going to create; on another piece of paper was a lure that was in the form of a fake organisation; and the final plan was on a piece of scrunched up, yellow paper. Along the top was the words "The Organisation of Spanish Speakers." Hetzer's cunning club was sure to work on that nefarious Spanish tank; who wouldn't fall for it?

Hetzer turned around, rolled up the piece of paper and forcefully stuffed it in his bag. He heard a rip as he was placing it in the bag; he looked inside and saw his single high explosive anti-tank shell in his bag; he accidentally put his paper through the point. Oh well…

That HEAT shell was going to be used for only two purposes; if he ever needed it. If the tanks he was "convincing" to join his army were rather troublesome, then Hetzer would have to stop their resistances with that shell. He had read a few guides on how to knock out a tank with a single HEAT shell on the internet, so he was ready. The other purpose would be if said tank did join his army and they were useless, then they would be disposed of.

Hetzer picked his bag up, placing it in his crew compartment and setting off for school. He planned to meet UE 57 and talk to her about his plan; one of his commanders needed to know. Hetzer promoted her because he was nice (and she was also the first recruit in his army).

Hetzer took the road, seeing UE 57 drive out of her home; wait… she wasn't programmed to do that. Hetzer had programmed her to go out of the house at 8:45 exactly… and it was 8:47. Two minutes off… Hetzer merely thought there were some bugs with her programming. Hetzer's wheels spun faster and so did his tracks; he followed UE 57, intending to speak to her about his sinister plans. He was getting closer…

UE 57 had somehow spotted him from behind her, and she pushed her engine to the max, trying not to fall into the claws of the evil Hetzer. Her little tracks squeaked as she went faster and faster; but Hetzer wasn't giving up. UE 57 was still acting like she was brainwashed; however, she wasn't doing a very good job at it. She wondered if Hetzer could tell that she was faking it.

Hetzer was getting rather irate with UE 57's determination to escape from him, so he simply yelled, "UE 57! HALT!" This made the little blue tank destroyer, after a second of contemplation, delay her moving and stop completely. She rocked forward as she stopped abruptly.

"Very good!" Hetzer praised her as if she was a dog. "We need to work on your speed though… there was a delay before you stopped…"

"Yes uh… sir…," UE 57 replied, trying to do a monotonous voice the best she can.

"Good. Now move on," Hetzer commanded, prompting UE 57 to drive forward like she originally was – but not at such a fast speed. Hetzer would be suspicious if she did that again, most likely.

They drove in unison; at the same speed; they were parallel to each other. UE 57 was unnerved; she knew what Hetzer was like; he could just randomly go ape and attack her. She still remembered what happened a few days ago; when the D.W. 2 and the T-28 were savagely slain by the German tank destroyer. Tank Academy was now coming into view; UE 57 focused her optics on the school gates, seeing a few tanks she recognised, including Cadence – that tank that Hetzer was talking about.

When UE 57 and Hetzer neared the gates, Cadence immediately assumed a defensive position; she drove backwards, angling her armour and training her gun on the gates of the school. She thought that Hetzer and UE 57 would come and try and attack her, so she prepared herself just in case.

As the gates came closer, Hetzer stopped and commanded UE 57 to stop as well. She grinded to a halt; her black tracks screeched along the concrete ground, making a loud noise.

"We need to talk – about my latest plan," Hetzer whispered; it was clear to UE 57 that he was eccentric. She reversed a bit, going right next to Hetzer; waiting for him to tell her his plan. He took a deep breath and continued, "My plan is to create a lure for the Spaniard – the Organisation of Spanish Speakers. I don't know Spanish – and neither do you; but you will to help me achieve my plan. Go! Now! Learn Spanish!"

Hetzer pushed UE 57 forward, making her tracks roll a bit. Smoke trailed out of her engine as she surged forward – not to learn Spanish, but to warn Cadence about this "organisation". As she rolled forward, she focused her optics on the gates again – Cadence was gone. Hetzer was watching UE 57 from behind; he would come in school later; he was "sick".

UE 57 reached the school gates, trying to look for Cadence, but she wasn't there. She sighed and drove into the school.

Hetzer turned around, going back to his own home. He knew that UE 57 wasn't hypnotised – he had done it on purpose. He wondered how far he could go with her until she used her brain to figure out she was being pushed past the line. Hetzer predicted that she would be involved with the death of Birch Gun before she sussed out what was happening. When she did; that HEAT shell would be put to use. It'd cripple her; she would be unable to move or fire – and then Hetzer would make the last few minutes of her life a wonderful time – for him of course. For the tank destroyer, it would be hell.


	22. Escorting the Weak

_**Author's note: This just happens to be the day when a year ago, Tank Academy was first published. I can't believe it's a year old… it's gone so fast. I totally didn't rush this chapter to complete it on Tank Academy's first anniversary…**_

UE 57 rammed into the school door, sending it flying open. She was in the school reception. The blue tank slowly drove forward, observing the stream of tanks going to their lessons. UE 57 knew her timetable off by heart; she had history. Tiger I wasn't a particularly interesting tank to be taught by, but UE 57 didn't care. She drove towards the history room – it was on the other side of the school, so it would take some time.

As she was travelling, she thought about Hetzer and his new plan. She planned to warn Cadence about Hetzer's Organisation of Spanish Speakers; she assumed that Cadence would have enough common sense to avoid it anyway, but just in case…

It was a good thing that Cadence was in UE 57's history lesson. It would probably be impossible to find a spot of silence (because Tiger I never stopped droning on and on), but she'd try. First, she'd have to get to the classroom and… wait… what's that noise?

UE 57 heard a familiar voice rambunctiously shouting behind her. UE 57 swerved round, identifying it as Panzer I C's voice. Panzer I C was very inquisitive… and being inquisitive in Tank Academy was a bad idea. UE 57 assumed that she had probed too far to gobble up the gossip she was always looking for, and some tank got angry and started walloping her. The screaming became intense, which told UE 57 that the situation was getting worse by the second.

UE 57 felt her tracks colliding with the once unscathed marble floor as she screeched along the hall. She saw Panzer I C scrambling with some other tank in the hallway. She gasped as the opposing tank grabbed Panzer's rear and almost tossed her across the hallway. Panzer I C did see flight, but only for a metre. She winced as she felt the impact; her tracks absorbed the shock.

UE 57 was thinking in her head: _FIGHT,_ but she knew that Panzer I C wasn't one for fighting. So she decided to sacrifice herself to this obviously strong tank, just to help her friend and—wait…

Panzer I C saw UE 57 as soon as she was on the ground; she called for help before feeling a sharp pain in her track. It felt like it had been split open (and it had) by a shell. UE 57 looked past the hurt German, seeing the extremely nefarious M5A1 Stuart! M5A1 spotted her at the exact same time. In her damaged state, Panzer I C opened fire on M5A1 Stuart's sloped armour, but it did nothing but slightly scratch her paint.

"You fool! Now I'm going to have to get a new paintjob!" M5A1 Stuart snarled. "And as payment, I will make you have to get a new turret! Ha ha!"

Panzer I C continued to fire at the Chinese tank's armour in the hope that it would penetrate… but it never would. M5A1 Stuart barked like a dog at the light tank, firing back at Panzer I C. She wasn't shooting armour piercing shells however; she was shooting high explosive. The forty-seven millimetre gun flashed – sending out another shell. Panzer I C's frail turret was impacted; but it hit the gun mantlet. The spaced armour took it well, but her gun didn't. Panzer I C wanted to cry when she saw the bits of her gun fall to pieces.

"Try firing now, kraut!" M5A1 Stuart yelled crazily. UE 57 tensed up; she had had enough. She loaded a shell into her breech – preparing to give M5A1 Stuart the same treatment that she was giving her friend. There was a slightly audible boom that caused M5A1 Stuart to jump. The clang that the shell produced whilst it was impacting her turret and destroying her cannon breech was definitely more audible.

M5A1 tried to spit berserk sentences much akin to venom; but she found herself being unable to do so. She saw the smoke rising out of UE 57's barrel, and she instantly heated up with anger. Of course! UE 57 surged forward to help Panzer I C by dragging her out of the hallway, but M5A1 Stuart wasn't going to let that happen. The coaxial .30 calibre gun shifted onto the tank destroyer's hull. UE 57 wasn't able to do much before a stream of hot bullets spun out of the small barrel; aimed straight at UE 57.

UE 57 immediately felt hot as some of the bullets ricocheted off her sloped armour… they weren't doing much. The heat came from the stress that she was instantly under – being fired at by a tank. This didn't usually happen.

UE 57's gun shield tilted as she trained her gun on that pesky gun. The river of bullets that were expelled out of the gun had been adjusted to hit the flat armour on UE 57's hull; and they were penetrating. UE 57 drove back swiftly, trying to endure the pain. Soon enough, the flat plate on her armour was drilled full of holes. M5A1 Stuart was relentless.

UE 57 hastily shot the little machine gun… but in her fastened pace she hit quite farther down from where she had planned to put the shell, making the armour-piercing shell incise into the sloped armour and causing more damage than intended. The dagger flew straight through into the transmission and fragmented into her ammo. Luckily for the export tank, the fragment didn't destroy her ammo rack. She shuddered intensely as the fragment pricked her ammo rack; it created an intense pain for her. She was breathing heavily and black smoke was puffing out of her engine, forming into small clouds before dissipating. Her transmission was in a similar state; but it still worked. She'd probably break down, however.

Suddenly, she screamed in pain. UE 57 noticed that it was a late reaction by the tank, who was still yelling loudly. UE 57 stifled a laugh. She was in considerable pain herself; nothing that the nurse couldn't fix, however. As for the tank opposing her… that would take some work. It looked like she was about to break down into tears herself. UE 57 noticed some form of sadness in the tank… strange. The French tank just assumed that that emotion was alien to her.

UE 57 was triumphant. Panzer I C sniffed and then laughed at M5A1 Stuart uncontrollably. The laughing was croaky and almost came out like a series of squeaks, but it didn't mean anything to M5A1 Stuart, who wasn't exactly having the time of her life. One of the only purposes in her life was her gun, and that was gone. She liked to shoot things.

Panzer I C's damaged laugh was only adding fuel to the raging fire. She could laugh and M5A1 Stuart couldn't. Normally it was her who was doing the laughing. For the first time in her life, M5A1 Stuart was defeated. She was humiliated. UE 57 was dragging her away, which was making the laugh become less audible. It didn't matter – that agonising laugh would ring in her head every time she woke up for days.

It occurred to M5A1 Stuart that she was overreacting – and at the same time, it occurred to her that she was capable of driving. Panzer I C was still laughing as UE 57 painstakingly dragged her across the hall, ignoring the pain that was in her. Panzer I C's laughs immediately stopped and she shifted into a state of horrification as M5A1 Stuart blitzed towards her at full speed. UE 57 didn't notice – or feel it until she was almost knocked over by the sheer force of M5A1 slamming into her. The frantic yell that ricocheted throughout the halls after that savage collision should have alerted somebody, but as they were in the labyrinth, the echoes just stopped ringing in the countless halls.

UE 57 also felt the force; she instantly turned around, feeling the burning pain in her hull again. When he saw in front of her, she discovered it was M5A1 Stuart who torpedoed into Panzer I C; and she wasn't planning on stopping. She was like a furnace; fuelled by coal. The coal was Panzer I C's tormenting. Panzer I C began to shout apprehensively as the livid tank drove backwards slowly. Panzer I C watched in horror as M5A1 Stuart's tracks began to screech as they spun. The green tank darted towards Panzer I C; she was a green blur to the German.

Panzer I C attempted to drive with her one working track, but to no avail. She ended up going a few degrees before going about fifty more, because M5A1 Stuart crashed into her again. UE 57 was busy doing nothing as she was attempting to deal with the pain that had amplified itself, thanks to M5A1 Stuart's death charges.

Panzer I C found it harder to speak as M5A1 Stuart pounded her more; each ram was stronger, harder and more merciless than the last one. Panzer I C felt as if she couldn't breathe. With the addition of the croaking, all she could manage was a weak ranine call for help. UE 57 was still focusing on suppressing the pain, but she heard Panzer I C's request.

M5A1 Stuart was not only fuelled by the everlasting hatred of everyone; it was also the pain. The searing pain that was trapped inside her was motivating her to cause more pain to other tanks; to let them experience her anguish. She drew back for another attack, preparing to harm the defenceless light tank some more. With every smash; with every shockwave that went through her body – her wound grew bigger and created more pain. It didn't bother her – it was fuelling her ambitions to cause more horror to that stupid little Panzer tank.

UE 57 finally processed the fact that her friend was being clobbered: and she took immediate action by releasing a shell off to M5A1 Stuart. She was bolting forward to deliver more damage to her opponent, but the shell flying in the air stopped her from doing that. It spun freely for about a second before colliding with M5A1 Stuart's dusty track – and making her spin. She was too late to react, and she paid the price. Now she couldn't do any more destroying. It didn't matter, because the deed was done; Panzer I C's front was wrecked. The beak of her glacis was all bent, and so was her lower glacis. There had been somehow enough force to knock off one of the headlights and break the other's glass.

M5A1 Stuart saw the culprit – it was UE 57 again! She had somehow recovered from the wave of bullets that she had been pelted with and was now shooting at her again. M5A1 Stuart realised that her machine gun was still able to be used – and it was going to be. M5A1 Stuart attempted to laugh evilly as her little gun opened fire on UE 57; however, in her damaged state, her accuracy wasn't as good and most of the bullets rebounded into the floor, hitting Panzer I C's flat armour. The other bullets that hit the intended target merely struck into the sloped armour, instantly gliding off in the opposite direction.

M5A1 Stuart continued to shoot at the tank destroyer, but her campaign was hastily ended with a high explosive shell from UE 57. It was almost as if her machine gun crumbled to dust as it was pommeled by the shot. M5A1 Stuart was completely incapable of doing anything else now, much like Panzer I C. M5A1 Stuart hadn't been directly harmed to the point of Panzer I C's wounds, but her damage was taking a toll on her.

UE 57 looked at both of the disabled tanks. Panzer I C was definitely in a critical condition… and she didn't really care about M5A1 Stuart. UE 57 prepared to begin to tow Panzer I C away – but it would take a bit of time, as she was recovering. After a minute of being idle, she decided to stop being a wuss and get to work. UE 57 pulled Panzer I C backwards, hearing the unsettling screeching of her tracks. M5A1 Stuart was getting further and further away, unable to do anything about the escaping tanks. Panzer I C had learnt her lesson about taunting M5A1 Stuart…

UE 57 went around the corner; they left M5A1 Stuart in the middle of the hallway. The Chinese vehicle finally realised she had made an error. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to take on two tanks by herself. She cursed the two tanks and began to hop forward. Every time she hit the ground, her damaged ammo rack shook around a bit, returning that searing feeling inside her hull. As she was painstakingly doing that, her left drive wheel fell off.

UE 57 and Panzer I C were further ahead; but not by much. M5A1 Stuart's hopping was faster than UE 57's slow speed. She wished that she had just taken a different turn and not seen the two tanks. Pulling Panzer I C was very taxing on her energy; and she didn't have much of that to begin with, anyway. Her German friend was triple her weight, which didn't help either. UE 57 was using all of her strength to escort Panzer I C away from M5A1 Stuart, who was now coming up behind them.

It took a few seconds for Panzer I C to see M5A1 Stuart tailing them as her optics were blurred and unfocused, but when she did, she almost had a panic attack. UE 57 asked what was wrong, but Panzer I C wasn't replying. She heard an audible stomping noise behind her, but disregarded it as something else. The stomping suddenly stopped, which made UE 57 a bit chilled. She turned around to look at the source of the noise – as soon as she saw M5A1 Stuart angrily leaping towards the two tanks, she instantly swerved round again, suddenly pushing her engine to the max and dashing off. It turned out that having a berserk tank follow you would motivate you to go faster.

UE 57 was having significant problems going at her top speed; for starters, her engine only had forty-eight horsepower. She was going at a fast speed for a few seconds, but Panzer I C's weight slowed her down, and M5A1 Stuart caught up to them. She wasn't done with them yet. M5A1 Stuart used all of her strength to somehow leap into the air and bomb Panzer I C. UE 57's reaction was faster than normal, so Panzer I C ended up not getting squashed. M5A1's impact on the ground broke the marble floor and made her yelp in pain.

UE 57 was escaping from the tank at a speed of two to three kilometres per hour. M5A1 Stuart would keep following them until she could successfully stomp on Panzer I C. When UE 57 heard the loud clanging sound again, she gave up. She swerved round swiftly, getting slightly annoyed with the obnoxious persistence that M5A1 Stuart was exhibiting. M5A1 Stuart thudded along the ground, getting ready to do an extra high leap. She bounded forward – but not before UE 57 fired at her, making her lose her concentration and do a front flip, smashing her turret into the ground.

"Quick! Go! Go!" Panzer I C yelled with a scratchy, croaky voice. UE 57 latched her onto the tow cable again, slowly pulling her away from the unconscious tank. Hopefully she wouldn't bother them for a while. UE 57 could now stop exerting her engine to the max; her mind was liberated from the fear of a crazy Chinese tank following the duo. UE 57 went around the corner, seeing a few tanks spread out around the place. One of them was opening a red locker. UE 57 noticed the tank and felt like she remembered it from somewhere.

UE 57 dragged Panzer I C forward in front of her. She whispered, "Do you see that German tank over there?"

"Yeah… why?" Panzer I C wheezed. She looked at the tank accessing the red locker; it was a VK 30.02 (M). Something about that tank made her feel not right. Other tanks noticed that she was beaten up, but they ignored it. It was a normal thing at Tank Academy.

"He looks quite sympathetic. Go call for help and maybe he will come and help you," UE 57 replied. "I've got business to do on my own. It's to do with a tank who is very much in danger."

Panzer I C didn't want to use her precious energy to speak, but she was curious and she needed more gossip. She assumed one thing. "Is this also to do with that Hetzer?"

"Yeah," UE 57 answered. "It's urgent." With that statement, UE 57 rolled off. She assumed that somebody would be nice enough to escort her to the nurse. UE 57 was being rather selfish – but she did take the effort to tow her to that hallway.

Once UE 57 was gone, Panzer I C shouted at the top of her screechy voice, "HELP!" The squawk caught the attention of a few tanks, but they all took no notice to her, instead going about with their business. UE 57 was right about the tank being sympathetic; he turned around, seeing the damaged light tank. His tracks spun and he made his way to Panzer I C, examining her with silence. The situation became slightly awkward.

After a few seconds of silence (which was killing Panzer I C from the inside), the tank asked, "What happened to you?"

Panzer I C was thrown off guard: she wasn't expecting dialogue. Her first attempt to speak merely let out a damaged croak. She didn't need to say anything since it was pretty obvious what had happened to her. After a few seconds of more silence, the tank had decided what to do.

"You look pretty bad. I'll get you to the nurse if you need it," the tank offered. Panzer I C had been abandoned by her friend who apparently had other things to do. Panzer I C simply nodded in agreement.

The medium tank hooked Panzer I C onto a tow cable, and soon they were off. Panzer I C's saver was much faster than UE 57 with his escorting speed as he was not throttled by his strength, health or weight. Panzer I C noticed that the tank went forwards from the lockers; into another hallway. It didn't seem that he knew where he was going. Panzer I C hadn't been at the school for very long, but she knew where the nurse's room was by heart. This was because Panzer I C had taken plenty of trips to that room; her inquisitive nature was perhaps a tad too pushy for some irritable tanks…

Panzer I C and the nurse had struck up some pretty good conversations. It turned out that KV-1 liked to get absorbed into gossip too and knew a lot of juicy things, and he liked to bestow his knowledge upon Panzer I C. Some things that KV-1 said were particularly interesting. The best part was that she could use said intel as ammunition for more devious things. She never needed to do it, but it was useful just in case. She was very close to revealing T71's messed up love life and his deepest darkest secret of him being an alcoholic over a low score on her assessment, but she decided not to. She wasn't that mean.

Sometimes Panzer I C wished that she could get hurt so she could go to the nurse and receive the gossip. She could go there on her own accord, but she didn't want to make it seem like she was desperate for more gossip (even though she was).

"What's your name?" her rescuer asked as they went along the corridors.

"I don't have a name," Panzer I C answered. "Well… if you want my full designation, it is Panzerkampfwagen I Ausführung_ C."_

_"_My vehicle name is Versuchskonstruktion 30.02 (M), but my actual name is Raven," he replied as he drove along.

Panzer I C replied with a sign of acknowledgement (which was a nod). She could tell that they were getting close to the nurse's room; she recognised the hallways. There were lots of oil spills around these parts as critically damaged tanks commonly went around here for obvious reasons. Sometimes they didn't make it to the nurse, and they just rusted in the middle of a hallway, only to be cleaned up a few months later. The caretaker never bothered to clean up around this area of the school because it was always dirty. There was no point.

Raven turned around into the nurse's hallway; it was a dead end with a door at the end. Raven led her up to the entrance and rammed the door open. As he entered the nurse's room that looked like a garage (there were greasy parts everywhere, and oil spills were rampant), he got a sense of déjà vu. At that same time, he remembered that he had escorted Cadence to the same place.

Panzer I C thanked Raven and then jumped on a seat, waiting to be seen. Raven exited the nurse's room, realising how smelly it was when he felt the fresh air on his turret again. That room must've accounted for 90% of the pollution in Tank Academy.

There was a big sheet that covered about 10% of the room; just enough to perform operations. Some of the students wondered what happened behind those sheets. There was a rumour that went around that KV-IA would sometimes go to the school in the night, get into the nurse's room and work on a secret project behind those sheets. It would explain why oil stains suddenly appeared on the ghost white curtains overnight. The curtains had mostly become black, so there wasn't much more evidence of any secret workings going on.

As Raven began to go into the main corridor, he saw a Type T-34 driving past him. He drove out of the dead end and gazed at the Type T-34, who was driving somewhere. He recognised her for some reason… maybe it was that Type T-34 who didn't want to speak. She was definitely focused on where she was doing; her turret never deviated from the front of her hull.

He wondered where she was going, but he didn't want to follow her. He wasn't a detective.

The Type T-34 swerved to the right, going down to another corridor. She was going down to where Raven was originally – but past that. She sighed inaudibly as she passed the red locker. As it had been left hastily, it wasn't locked properly. Type T-34 went up the corridor, turning into another hallway. Type T-34's shadow went over a disgruntled M5A1 Stuart. She had somehow been able to upright herself.

"What happened to you?" Type T-34 asked quietly. She didn't like to speak, but if it was crucial, then she would. Upon realising that M5A1 Stuart couldn't speak, she sighed again. She assumed that it was related to the artillery that M5A1 Stuart had been continuously raging about at home. "Is this about the artillery?" she inquired.

M5A1 Stuart shook her turret, indicating a no, which surprised Type T-34. She saw that she was pretty beaten up, so the culprit must've been a big tank. Type T-34 couldn't imagine the humiliation that would go through M5A1 Stuart if she was pummelled by a UE 57, for example. She could crush that thing by tapping it. Type T-34 was curious to know what wrecked her.

M5A1 Stuart would normally be raging about now. Type T-34 glanced at the front of her turret, spotting a hole. It went straight into her turret; presumably into the cannon breech.

"Can't you speak?" Type T-34 asked, knowing the answer. It was more of a rhetorical question. "Okay," she continued softly, "I guess I'll fix you…"

M5A1 Stuart wanted to ask, "How?" Type T-34 had already worked that out. M5A1 Stuart was hooked onto a tow cable and dragged along the floor recklessly. M5A1 Stuart felt the friction of having her damaged track scratch along the amber floor. It wasn't so amber after that.

They were going home. Nobody would realise that Type T-34 had disappeared as she was so quiet. If any of the teachers questioned it, there would be a phone call home. Type T-34 would pick it up and deal with the inquisitive teacher over the line. This was the same for M5A1 Stuart; it would be merely a coincidence that both of them disappeared.

Type T-34 was M5A1 Stuart's sister; but she didn't like to show it. There were two reasons: she liked to be as unnoticed as possible so she could go around with her daily plans without being disrupted. The other reason was that she didn't like being connected to a crazy tank such as M5A1 Stuart. Most tanks didn't know who Type T-34 was; let alone knowing that M5A1 Stuart was her sister.

"Let's go…," Type T-34 whispered. The duo was close to the main hallway of the school now. There weren't many tanks about, so there was no questioning about a half broken tank being hauled out of the school by a student. Even a situation like that was rare for Tank Academy. As Type T-34 went past the golden statue of Leopard 1, she felt a chill; as if she was being watched.

She felt herself halt suddenly as she rammed into something. Strange… normally she was more careful with her driving. She reversed, looking up. There was the grisly sight of Leopard 1 towering over her. She could tell he was about to burst.

"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING, YOUNG TANK?! CLASSES HAVE STARTED!" the tank bellowed angrily. Type T-34 found no way that she could get out of this situation. M5A1 Stuart was sighing by making a crackling noise with her broken gun breech.

Type T-34 was about to say something, but Leopard 1 interjected by yelling, "DETENTION! NOW! FOR THE TWO OF YOU!"

Type T-34 decided to make a run for it by scrambling past the main battle tank, but her escape route was walled by Leopard 1 turning around and driving in front of her. Type T-34 accepted defeat and slowly drove to the detention room. She went through the left corridor in the direction of the aforementioned room.

M5A1 Stuart knew that her sister wasn't a goody two shoes; she had done a few questionable things in the past. But going to the detention room when she was actually told? That was a first for her. She wondered if Type T-34 had something brewing in her mind – she liked to plot.

Leopard 1 wasn't following them. He expected the students to escort themselves to the detention room. Most of them did; they feared Leopard 1 because of his relentless detention giving; not because he was threatening. He would force tanks to stay in detention for hours and more.

Type T-34 drove straight past the detention room – there were a few bored tanks in there, unknowing of the escape that they could make. Uninformed (and frankly stupid) tanks thought that there was a camera hidden somewhere in the room. They didn't want to leave and have Leopard 1 find out that they escaped; only to give them even more detention.

Type T-34 halted in the middle of the hallway, turning left into a small room. There was a white counter with a bored tank standing behind it, typing on a box that resembled a keyboard, connected to a box that resembled a monitor. The ICT department of the school was really cheap.

"Yes… can I help you?" the tank immediately asked upon seeing the two tanks.

"I need to go home… I don't feel well," Type T-34 groaned weakly. That was a fabrication.

The tank sighed like it had heard that a million times before. "And your friend?"

"She's been wrecked. I need to get her home."

The tank didn't question it; it couldn't be bothered. "Whatever… just go home."

Type T-34 pulled M5A1 Stuart along, exiting the school and going into a section of Ruskie. The school building didn't make much sense; there were receptions everywhere dotted around the school. Type T-34 wished to go out via the main entrance into Tankville Road, but Leopard 1 shattered that plan. Type T-34 wasn't going to go to the other side; she would probably be caught hauling a damaged tank during lesson time.

Their house was a two storey building near to Tank Academy, so they were lucky. Soon, M5A1 Stuart wouldn't have to endure any pain; and Type T-34 promised one day that she would upgrade her. She was excited for the day that she could become a death machine, as Type T-34 described it. She almost had enough parts to upgrade herself. Type T-34 "borrowed" some track links from the local hardware shop, and she stored it in her box of random things. When she could be bothered to put those links on her hull, she would. It was particularly hard to do it on yourself.

After a few more minutes of pain for M5A1 Stuart, the two tanks got back to their house. Their mum wasn't at home; probably doing something at the bar, which is where she always went.

In the kitchen, there was a trapdoor at the end of the room for some reason. Type T-34 drove into the kitchen, opening the trapdoor and revealing the darkly lit cellar. Type T-34 went down the ladder with M5A1 Stuart; and they entered the dungeon. Type T-34's headlights came on by instinct, revealing the grey bricks that the room was made out of. She turned around and saw the light flickering. She'd have to replace that lightbulb…

Her focus went in front of her, and a big wooden table was revealed. A few red boxes were scattered about; the paint on them was peeling off. They were stashed full of random metal parts that Type T-34 thought could be useful for whatever reason in the future. On the drab wall was a board with some nails sloppily punched into them; with some bent tools hanging on them. Type T-34 considered herself to be a competent mechanic – at least, she could do mechanics class better than the teacher, who was some stupid British tank.

Type T-34 unhooked M5A1 Stuart off the tow cable; she felt free. She didn't have to pull 16 tonnes of metal forwards anymore.

"Right… I'll just get my tools ready," Type T-34 spoke as she pulled out a high power drill. She turned it on to make sure it was working... and it was; perhaps a bit too much. Type T-34 ended up being the thing that was spinning. After that fiasco, Type T-34 recovered, threw the drill in the bin, and rubbed her gun mantlet in thought.

She spun round a piece of metal that was attached to the table, and it went down. Type T-34 flicked on a lamp; she twisted it so it went onto the table. The bright light revealed how dirty the table was; it was damp with oil. Type T-34 had done all of her mechanical work on that table. The surface of it had splinters dotted all over, and one of the legs could snap off if you applied a little force to it, but it worked.

Type T-34 picked up one of the boxes, labelled "FOR FIXING M5A1 STUART." M5A1 Stuart getting hurt was such a common occurrence that Type T-34 created a box of parts just to fix her when she got hurt. Type T-34 drove from the table to M5A1 Stuart, beginning to pull her. It was annoying that she couldn't drive herself. Eventually (after much effort), M5A1 Stuart was on the mangled table. Type T-34 was surprised to see that the table took her weight.

Type T-34 looked to a workbench that was in one of the corners of the cellar. She drove over to it, opening a draw and revealing a blowtorch. She took it, swerving around and driving to the table. She was ready…

* * *

UE 57 had gone far, far away from where she abandoned Panzer I C. Her German friend probably thought that she was being selfish; but she was trying to save a life. She didn't particularly want to talk to Cadence after her supposed assault on her, but she needed to. Hetzer's new "organisation" was obviously focused on her – Hetzer had stated that himself. Cadence needed to be informed of this danger. UE 57 didn't know about her mental strength, but if Hetzer got his grubby self on her again, it would be put to the test. She assumed that Cadence was clever enough to not fall into his trap, but she wasn't sure.

The problem was that UE 57 had no idea where Cadence was. She didn't know her at all. The tank that seemed to know her the most in the school was Birch Gun… and he hadn't even talked to her that much.

She had just been aimlessly driving around for no reason; she then remembered her objective: find Cadence. She could be anywhere! UE 57 sighed and decided to go out onto the field – maybe Cadence was there. It was currently lunch, so UE 57 had a lot of time to find her. UE 57 drove onto the field, feeling the soft green grass on her tracks. She ravaged the little green swords as she drove further into the field. She halted suddenly as she saw something strange.

A crowd of tanks were swarming around something deeper into the field. UE 57's curiosity overcame her, and she temporarily stopped her mission to go over to the source of the crowd. When she got there, she realised the tanks weren't curious; they were mocking something. She desired to see the object, but the laughing tanks didn't part for her. One got bored of ridiculing the thing and drove off.

UE 57 drove in place of the departed tank, seeing a Russian tank. Her optics came into focus and she identified this tank as a Matilda IV, who was half destroyed. She drove back to see the tank better. This was Matilda II's associate, right? What was she doing on the field with her turret split open and her track off her body? Why wasn't anyone helping her?

UE 57 wasn't particularly going to jump to be the hero of the day, so she drove off and went in the opposite direction. UE 57 didn't like Matilda II or Matilda IV. She got back on track to her mission again, driving forward and observing the field. Most of the tanks in the field were paired with at least one tank. There was a tank that stood out to her as she inspected the tanks on the field. It was hiding in the shadow of a large tree.

"Maybe that could be Cadence…," UE 57 mumbled to herself. Her engine rumbled and she trekked off to the tank under to tree to see if it was Cadence. The tree was on the other side of the field, so she had to go a rather long way. After about a minute of driving to her destination, she finally made it. The tank had his gun buried in a giant red book, entitled, "The Idiot's Guide to Sidescraping."

UE 57 inaudibly made her way over to the tank, whose turret went up from its book, staring straight at UE 57.

It was a KV-220; but UE 57 didn't know that. She assumed that he was a normal KV-1. There are two main differences between a KV-1 and a KV-220: increased armour and a hyper temper.

The KV-220 stared at UE 57 as if she was a freak forged from pure malice. "Oi! What are you looking at?" He said this as if he was an angry KV-1S gangster crowding around Derp Guns R Us, wanting vengeance on life for randomly losing their hundred and twenty-two millimetre gun.

UE 57 began to speak, but the KV-220 interrupted her, yelling, "Get away, whelp! I'm trying to read!" The KV-220 picked up the thick book and lobbed it at UE 57, missing by a metre. The book went splat in a puddle of murky water, but it did the job. UE 57 did get away from the Russian, but at the expense of his book. It was now a piece of soggy junk that didn't have any use.

UE 57 quietly sniggered as she heard the frustrated heavy tank drive over to his dripping hunk of paper that was once a book.

She sensed that Cadence was near. She was surprised when she stopped, seeing Cadence about ten metres in front of her. She was lying on the grass, taking in the hot sun's rays. It looked like she could've been there for hours. She even had sunglasses on. UE 57 noticed that there was a straw going into her gun. Every few seconds, a liquid went through the straw.

UE 57 slowly drove over to the Spanish tank. Cadence hadn't seen her yet. As UE 57 trundled along, she noticed a small glass with a grey liquid in it. Whatever it was, it looked yummy. UE 57 didn't want to interrupt Cadence's fun time, but it was part of her duty.

"…Hello?" UE 57 sheepishly murmured.

Cadence suddenly sprung up as if a demon had spooked her. The glass toppled onto the ground, releasing the shiny liquid into the ground. When Cadence got up, her sunglasses were tilted as if she had woken up with them on. Her turret dramatically turned towards UE 57; like she was expecting this to happen.

Cadence was irately silent while UE 57 was preparing to barrage her with an avalanche of words. "Okay… so… I have to tell you something…"

Cadence put her gun up with contempt. "Before you start speaking, is this going to be important, or can I just lie down again and put my sunglasses on? Or will you just attack me again?"

UE 57 sighed impatiently in response. She was still holding that against her? Whatever… she just decided to ignore her incensed reply and continue on. "No… this is important."

"Okay," Cadence calmed down slightly, lying down again and realigning her sunglasses. She reached for her drink, but exhaled tempestuously when she discovered that in her fright, she caused a quake that shook the glass off its base, therefore making the drink disappear into the dirt. She waited for UE 57 to begin.

"Right… so, do you remember that Hetzer tank?" UE 57 asked diffidently.

"Yes, of course I do. The tank that you were working with; the tank that you betrayed me to silently when I was talking to you," Cadence retorted.

UE 57's anger was growing silently; she could feel her gun shield warming up. She tried to stay calm, but it was getting harder and harder with Cadence's constant remarks. She ignored her and continued; again, "He is creating an "organisation" called the Organisation of Spanish Speakers. I am here to warn you about it; do not join it. He's trying to recruit you into his army."

Cadence didn't have any more flak to shoot – and she suddenly felt curiously alarmed. "An army?"

UE 57 nodded with her gun. "Yeah. Just stay away from him."

Cadence felt insulted and compelled at the same time: there was a tank specifically targeting her, but there was a tank specifically targeting _her!_ She must have been important enough to be considered a threat. Her insulted side took over her, clouding her tank brain with vindictive thoughts.

UE 57 turned around and began to leave, but Cadence called her back. UE 57 went backwards and did a spiral, facing Cadence again.

"I say that we don't let that tank do this," Cadence began. She was actually talking to UE 57 without a subtle tint of hatred in her voice? Wow.

"That's not a good idea…," UE 57 answered. "Hetzer will wreck both of us."

"No!" Cadence yelled. "I will not submit! This Hetzer will pay! Does he even know Spanish?"

"No."

Cadence growled angrily. "He will pay for mocking my nationality and for thinking I am a fool!" Cadence threw her sunglasses on the ground beside her, accidentally driving over them after. She picked up speed, putting her engine to the max. After she disappeared into the distance, UE 57 wondered if she had done the right thing. No… she hadn't. Cadence was doomed.

* * *

"This is your final day here, Birch Gun," Claudia spoke with happiness. "You've been very lucky to survive. We'll just perform some checks and if they're good, you'll be on your way out."

Birch Gun was happy to be able to go home; but he'd have to go back to Tank Academy… it was a good break, though. Well… apart from the whole being destroyed thing. Birch Gun needed an entirely new turret. His hull was screwed up to the point that it needed tons of repairs. He basically was a new tank. Of course, the hospital made a mistake with his configuration. When he learnt of this, he was initially excited; he thought that they would've given him a new gun by accident… but they just fitted the wrong engine inside him. Now he was even weaker…

Outside of that ward, there was a bit of a ruckus going on. There were a few unidentified tanks driving through one of the hospital's hallways, going to a ward. The four tanks were German; and they were looking for a terrorist. When they tried to explain this to the receptionist, they didn't exactly comply. To deal with this rebel, the leader said that the receptionist was a terrorist and smote the tank.

The quartet checked every ward that they found, asking if a specific tank was in the room. The hospital's security forces were rather asleep that day.

Birch Gun was reading a book entitled "Of Guns and Tanks," which he had to read for his school assignment. His mother visited multiple times over his stay; on one of the trips, she gave him that book and told him to read it for school. It was a rather boring book. He put the book down when he heard some rambunctious rumbling coming from outside of the ward. It sounded menacing.

The doors suddenly opened, revealing a team of four Hetzers. They subtly drove into the room. The one who was in the front had a policeman hat and was holding a badge.

"Hello," the Hetzer in the front announced, "We are the Hetzer Spec Ops Team, and we are looking for a terrorist who may be contained inside this room."

Instantly, Birch Gun recognised his look and voice. It was Hetzer from school! What was he doing here?! How did he get into the hospital? There were so many questions; Birch Gun's tank brain was about to burst. Deep in his heart, he knew that it wouldn't only be his brain that would be bursting…

"We are looking for a specific British tank," Hetzer continued, which made Birch Gun shudder.

"His name is Birch Gun."


	23. Arson

It didn't take long before extremely loud sirens were honking all over the place; these alarms were emitting a blinding red light that swerved around, painting the walls red for a second before doing another circle. Claudia had stopped dead in her tracks, hearing screeching and crying behind her. The Tetrarch was back in his bed, and he was bawling oil, which was spilling all over the floor and making a mess. Claudia went to comfort him, but soon the other tanks in the ward were making distress calls as well. Claudia didn't know what to do.

Birch Gun found himself frozen in fear as Hetzer inspected the artillery. He looked at him for a few seconds – he knew that Birch Gun was the tank that he wanted to exterminate… he was just acting. It probably would raise some questions if Hetzer just blasted the "terrorist" without checking if it was them in the first place. Then again, the blaring sirens and bright lights were raising questions.

Hetzer knew this. He had to end the job before he was interrupted and probably thrown into jail. The news about four Hetzers going past security (somehow) and causing a ruckus throughout the hospital, looking for a specific tank had spread around quickly – it also caused the security team to get off their rears and do something about it. The thing that they did was call the police, who were going through the hospital, looking for the intruders. The security team's boss claimed that it was their day off; noting he said this while he was at the hospital, dully checking the cameras for anything fishy.

After a few more seconds of inspection, Hetzer deduced that this artillery was in fact the terrorist that the team was looking for. Birch Gun shuddered as the four Hetzers lined themselves up in front of him and prepared to fire. Before the firing range acted, Hetzer yelled at the top of his cannon breech: "This is the terrorist! As you can tell from his extremely terroristic features, he is a terrorist." Hetzer found himself at a loss for words. He continued, "He has travelled from Skräck, which happens to be a terrorist colony, to destroy all of us with his gun!"

Birch Gun found himself to be uttering words. "W-Well, actually, I'm not a t-terrorist…"

Hetzer cut in. "Hmm, extremist? You have something to say? Perhaps you are trying to deny that you are a terrorist, which creates a discrepancy with these extremely plausible documents that I have here." Hetzer produced a few blue pieces of paper with blocks of text on them. "Why don't you look yourself, scum?"

Birch Gun took a piece of paper; it had about five lines of text that formed into a big paragraph. It used boring words such as "deleterious", of which Birch Gun didn't know the definition of. He filtered that word out and began to read the next line, but he was interrupted by the sharp sound of a gun firing. The paper flew out of his hand as fast as he had taken it quizzically.

The sound wasn't the only thing that was sharp – the pain in Birch Gun's track was exactly that. One of the Hetzers had decided that his left track was annoying him, so it had to be split open. At this point, Claudia had had enough.

At this point, Claudia had had enough. "Excuse me, but I don't think this is right. You are trespassi—"

"Guess what? I don't care what you think!" Hetzer yelled, subsequently blasting Claudia into oblivion. Parts of her went all over the place; her drive wheel went out of the window, tearing through it and rolling away. Claudia was now a wreck; the area of impact was jet black, and smoke was rising out of every nook it could find. Claudia's pain-struck turret agonisingly lumbered towards Hetzer and his nefarious smoking gun.

While she was doing that, Hetzer did a laugh that was akin to a honk. "I don't think you understand what we are doing here. We were busy saving you from a terrorist, and you go ahead and query my decisions?! You are crazy, and now you will die, because you too are a terrorist!"

In her damaged state, Claudia was still up for fighting. Her high velocity armour-piercing composite rigid shell was loaded – and she was ready to use it. Ten years of fighting in the War of Tankhstan as a combat medic had left her hardened for any battle. In her young age, she could destroy a Hetzer without even thinking about it. Now, however…

"Okay; now it's time for you to die. Bye bye!" Hetzer spoke with a tinge of excitement, which Claudia detected. The Valentine's gun was trained on Hetzer's frontal armour, preparing to fire. Hetzer noticed this rather quickly and also readied himself, but Claudia was faster.

Hetzer felt the shell bite into his armour, but he didn't feel anything. He simply laughed it off and blew Claudia up. He reassured the other Hetzers with his somehow calm, compelling words. "It's okay, team. The rebel had it coming to her. Now for our main target!"

Birch Gun's terrified quivering only powered Hetzer more, making him quiver too. His shaking wasn't due to his fear; however… it was with incessant laughter. The shell was loaded and ready to blast Birch Gun into the next square kilometre. Hetzer even contemplated using his high explosive anti-tank shell on Birch Gun, but those things cost a lot of money. He decided that Birch Gun wasn't worth four thousand credits – he wasn't even worth one credit.

"Now it's your turn, Birch Gun," Hetzer began. "As you can see, I obliterated your protector after she tried to court me with a shell. It obviously didn't work, as I am still standing. However, you won't be after we are done with you." Hetzer spoke with clarity and eloquence, but his speech was getting quickly tainted with thunderous vehement.

"Who will destroy him, commander?" one of the other Hetzers asked. He really wanted to kill Birch Gun and earn a hard-earned medal from his master.

"We all will! It will be a firing squad. Then we will have to check the other patients to see if they are also dangerous to Tankville." Hetzer's speech made one of the patients whimper. It was the Tetrarch, who was now buried under a pillow. Hetzer noticed the tank's shameful attempt of going out of his view, yelling, "And you will be next, Tetrarch!"

Tetrarch began to cry, which consequently caused Hetzer to laugh frenziedly. He somehow stopped laughing, aligned himself with his team, and began to speak. "Okay! Fire on three, two, one…"

"THIS IS THE POLICE! PUT YOUR GUNS UP AND DON'T FIRE!" a gruff voice bellowed, smashing through the doors and entering the room. The M103 saw the four Hetzers at once, hearing the audible sound of a shell being loaded. To circumvent the possible death of a hostage, the police tank threw himself at the row of tank destroyers with his herculean strength, thrusting three of them into a wall and jamming them into it. One of the Hetzers was lucky enough not to get almost crushed by the heavy tank, spinning round and quickly thinking of what to do.

"I've got three of them! Take the last one down, AMX!" M103 shouted. The Jagdpanzer that wasn't being rammed was unfortunately Hetzer, who propelled a shot into M103's tracks. Hetzer expected his track pins to fall out and his track to fall like putty, but it held against his onslaught. Hetzer became hot to the touch as he got angrier. After a few seconds, an AMX AC mle. 46 smashed into the room, driving over the door and making it crack. He did the exact same thing as M103 did; he lobbed himself at Hetzer…

Hetzer was prepared for it, and he simply reversed out of the way, making the AMX ram into an oak table, crushing it under his tracks. The French tank destroyer's turret on the top of its superstructure turned around to see Hetzer; it fired its gun overzealously in the hope that it would do something. As expected: the little gun failed to do anything except annoy Hetzer even more. He retaliated by dismantling AMX AC's turret with his explosive shell.

M103 had already managed to clamp the tanks, so they weren't going anywhere. A bolt of frustration hit him when he saw that his colleague was still messing around with the Hetzer. He sighed when the tank bulldozed AMX AC's track with a well place shot. AMX AC was also getting rather annoyed now; he fired at Hetzer, hoping to hit him, but the one hundred millimetre shell went straight past him, drilling into the wall.

"AMX, you idiot!" M103 shouted, to which AMX AC whimpered. "Alexei! Get in here! I need to keep these tanks embedded in the wall!"

It seemed that the team wasn't done appearing yet. The next tank was a T-54 Lightweight that instantly stained the floor upon its arrival. It looked like those black marks caused by his screeching tracks would be permanent…

"Here I go!" Alexei yelled, flying into Hetzer. Alexei braced himself for the landing, but it wasn't as he expected. Instead of bombarding onto the top of a Hetzer, he felt shockwaves shift through his armour as he landed on the floor. After a brief recovery, he noticed that the window had been completely smashed, and that there was a grey figure racing away.

Alexei didn't waste any time; he jumped out of the window, attempting to locate Hetzer. M103 turned his turret towards the damaged AMX AC, sighing at him. "He managed to hit you hard, didn't he? Looks like he escaped out of the window."

"Yeah…," AMX AC replied. "Alexei went after him."

"I'll tend to the patients. AMX, go take these guys to the police station," M103 replied.

"Okay," he replied. M103 drove backwards, letting the Hetzers breathe air again. It would not last for long, as the lumbering tank destroyer was now pushing them out of the ward.

M103 turned towards the bedridden tanks. "Are you all okay? I can imagine it was quite a shock to you." A few seconds after M103 spoke, he noticed Birch Gun's broken track. "What's happened to you?"

"U-Uh, I got shot by H-Hetzer… he's the one who escaped."

M103 scratched his gun mantlet in thought. "Hmm. Were you the supposed terrorist?"

"Yes...," Birch Gun muttered. "It goes a long way…"

"If so, you'll be wanted for questioning. I will clear this up with the hospital – also, that Valentine will need some medical help."

Birch Gun didn't reply. He was processing the thought that he was very close to death – again. He realised how lucky he was – again… It seemed that his luck was running out, as with every attack, he drew closer to death. He was unharmed; apart from his broken track.

The M103 swerved around and drove out of the door, leaving the patients in the ward. Birch Gun heard some shooting outside. Upon further inspection (with ears), he sussed out that the gun shooting was Hetzer's. A few more seconds went by, and Birch Gun heard a yell for help and a scream that could curdle paint.

Birch Gun began to shake again, because he knew that Hetzer could easily jump back into the room and smite him. Luckily enough, Hetzer had disappeared. Birch Gun felt like disappearing too.

After a few minutes of idle thinking, a few tanks entered into the room. There was the police M103 from before, an Achilles who appeared to be in a state of chaotic dishevelment and finally, Hopkins. He was the first tank to race into the room, instantly spotting Claudia and stopping dead in his tracks.

"Claudia? Oh, bloody hell! What have they done to you?" Hopkins spluttered.

The addled Achilles drove forward, pulling out a stethoscope and placing it on Claudia's turret. He shifted it all around on her turret; then on her hull. A few seconds of solemn silence went by, and the Achilles announced: "It appears that this Valentine is deceased. Luckily, we can restore her, but it will take some work." His words were slightly garbled, but he managed to form a coherent sentence.

Birch Gun noticed this. He wasn't going to say anything; mainly because the Achilles went to him next. "Let me apply this stethoscope to your rolled homogeneous armour, so we can analyse your condition and apply the required procedures to help you." The Achilles took his stethoscope off Birch Gun. "I am certain that we can ameliorate you so you can begin to convalesce."

"Sorry, what?" Birch Gun muttered. "Are you sure you're speaking English?"

"Yes, I am. I prefer to converse with a more eloquent lexicon," the Achilles replied, which confused him even more. "My examination has shown that your track is merely in a state of dilapidation. A quick restoration of the aforementioned component of your body will allow you to exit this hospital and return to your education."

Achilles drove over to the other patients in the room, forgetting about Birch Gun. The artillery decided to listen for him for some reason; he was talking to little tanks like he did to Birch Gun. The Tetrarch didn't understand and took the strange words as a threat. Achilles seemed rather shocked when the Tetrarch started crying hysterically. He tried to calm him down with pacifying words, but the tears kept flowing.

The M103 drove forward, facing Birch Gun. "You are now wanted for questioning at the police station. However, it appears that you aren't in the right condition, as your track is visibly destroyed. That's why we have Doctor Hopkins here to repair your track."

"Well, okay…," Birch Gun replied inaudibly.

Hopkins, who was still in the middle of the room, drove out of the door without saying anything.

M103 saw Hopkins leave, presumably without any reason (at least for Birch Gun). "I suspect he's off to get the stretcher."

On the other side of the room, Achilles was finished. He turned around and went out of the room as well.

Birch Gun found himself to be alone with the M103, who was in the process of writing on a clipboard.

Eventually, Hopkins came back into the room, pushing a stretcher. As the wheels went over the destroyed doors on the ground, one of the wheels broke off, rolling away.

"Flipping 'eck!"

* * *

Birch Gun exited the police station, coming out onto the main road of Tankville. As it was rush hour, lots of tanks were flowing on the road, much like a river. Birch Gun joined the stream of tanks, being pushed to his destination by angry drivers. A particularly berserk Panzerkampfwagen 38. (t) neuer Art was shoving him forwards, fuelled by the dwindling time left for him to get home at a reasonable time.

As soon as that German tank broke off, Birch Gun found himself having a slow, tranquil stroll on the road. He felt unnerved when a sinister feeling hit him; as if he was about to be assaulted by an insane tank.

His fears were verified when a Hetzer appeared right next to him on the road – it looked pretty devious to him. Then again, all Hetzers looked like that. One distinction from the Hetzer that Birch Gun knew (and loathed) was that this tank was painted in Dunkelgelb; a strange dark yellow colour. Hetzer was painted in Panzergrau, which was grey.

"Hi!" The Hetzer greeted Birch Gun happily, which threw Birch Gun off, causing him to drive into a fire hydrant. He drove backwards in slight pain, noticing that his newly forged armour was dented – already.

Birch Gun wanted to mutter a slur, but he restrained himself and calmed down.

"Are you okay?" the Hetzer asked sincerely. "Looks like you are in a bit of a muddle there."

"Yeah, uh, hi…," Birch Gun muttered with frustration. He realigned himself with the road, noticing that the Hetzer had stopped completely. At least he knew that it wasn't Hetzer from school. He revved his engine and started moving, watching the Hetzer go side by side with him. One look at him proved that he was itching for a chat. Another look at him made Birch Gun stop and study him. This was no normal Hetzer! He had no roof, and his gun looked like it split out of the tank, with two pieces of metal covering the gun from either side.

"Wait… you're not a normal Hetzer!" Birch Gun shrieked. The short, artillery-like gun dishonoured his own gun, and it scared him.

The strange talkative Hetzer turned towards Birch Gun, looking like he is about to tell a story. "Ah, so you've noticed? Yes, I am very unique."

Birch Gun continued to inspect him… until he got bored. Birch Gun drove off, but the strange Hetzer followed him.

Birch Gun sighed; he knew that he'd never get rid of this tank. Maybe he could get him convicted as a stalker… he totally wasn't jealous of his gun or anything like that.

"No! Don't go," the Hetzer cried. "I have no friends…" His gun drooped down in shame.

Birch Gun turned around slowly, deciding to feel somewhat sorry for the tank. "Oh, okay… you can drive with me…"

"Yay!" the Hetzer squealed. He drove forward, aligning himself with Birch Gun's hull. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

Birch Gun replied, "Well, I want to know what you are. I know you're a Hetzer—"

"Yes!" the loquacious Hetzer interrupted. "You want to know what I am? I am a modification of the Hetzer, utilising the 15 cm s.I.G. 33/2 (Sf) gun, which is an artillery gun! My full name is 15 cm s.I.G 33/2 (Sf) auf Jagdpanzer 38(t) Hetzer."

Birch Gun tried to process those intense names, but his brain couldn't take it. He could feel it pulsating. He attempted to show interest in the tank's frankly ludicrous name. "Cool…" Birch Gun drove on with the artillery Hetzer.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"My name is Birch Gun," the British tank responded.

"Oh! My friend T57 always mentions a Birch Gun. She says that you communicate over TankLive Messenger and…" His speech quickly descended into immature titters.

"Wait – do you go to SPG Academy?"

"Yes," the Hetzer replied, still giggling like an infant. "Pffff…"

"What? What are you laughing about?" Birch Gun asked with frustration.

"Seems it's unrequited…," the Hetzer mumbled giddily. He suddenly realised that Birch Gun was talking to him. "W-What?"

"Ugh… never mind." Birch Gun accelerated more, but the Hetzer was persistent. He quickly overtook him, and slowed down to allocate to Birch Gun's speed. Birch Gun was very happy to see that he was almost on the main road of Tankville, where he could go home. His house was a two storey house on the left side of the street – right at the end. Tankville Road branched off into two lanes; one of which Birch Gun was going down from. The one from where he went from went deeper into Tankville at the bottom and into Ruskie at the top.

"This is where you live, huh?" the Hetzer inquired. "Hmm… interesting."

"Excuse me?" Birch Gun felt creeped out. This Hetzer was bothering him now – and it was showing. He tried to hide it, but he was a bad actor. "Well, I must be going now. Bye." Birch Gun quickly escaped from the strange tank, driving into the safety of his own home. He slammed the door behind him rather forcefully, almost causing a crack to form in the wall.

Crusader SP was making chain Bolognese when Birch Gun came in; she heard the slam and instantly turned towards his beloved son. "Oh! You're back!" She seemed bewildered to see Birch Gun. She turned around and drove backwards to meet Birch Gun, giving him a hug. "You know, you could have just called me and I could have escorted you home."

"Yeah…," Birch Gun replied.

"Are you okay to go into school tomorrow?" Crusader SP queried.

"I think so. My frontal armour is dented due to a ramming accident and they gave me the wrong engine, but apart from that, I'm okay." Birch Gun then remembered the incident with Hetzer that had happened in the ward. Not to forget that SPG Hetzer that was following him around… so weird…

He never told his mother things that happened at school, even if they were incredibly significant, like him almost being put into a pot of boiling oil. He just preferred to keep things like that a secret, in fear of having the school contacted. He didn't want to go through any unnecessary drama. The police would have to be contacted for the things that had happened to him.

Crusader SP noticed something. "Is there something you're not telling me, Birch Gun?"

Birch Gun started to sweat. "Oh, um, no…"

"Don't lie to me. I can tell when something is happening."

_You clearly can't_, Birch Gun thought. If she could, then Hetzer would be in prison by now. He decided to give up, because his mother was persistent. She would probably probe for more information if he didn't tell her right now. "Yes, okay… we had some tanks attack our ward today."

"Oh, really?" Crusader SP sounded very shocked and concerned.

"Yes. I luckily got unharmed because the police came and dealt with it. But… it was another close call." Birch Gun instantly regretted what he said, because now his mum would ask more.

"Another close call? What do you mean?" Crusader SP quizzically asked. She was sceptical of Birch Gun's responses.

"I picked the wrong word," Birch Gun sheepishly replied.

"Well, okay, then." Crusader SP responded. "Dinner will be ready soon." She turned back to her chain Bolognese, noticing it had been emitting a noxious smoke. While she frantically turned the heat off, Birch Gun ascended into his room. Upon opening the door and seeing it, he felt a feeling that he hadn't felt in a long time: relaxation. He lobbed himself onto his bed, creating a "whumf" sound. His computer was still there; it was collecting dust, however. He tapped the power button, making the computer blink with colours. The monitor was next; it displayed "Viewports VII", which was the name of the operating system.

As soon as his computer loaded fully and he was thrown into his desktop, the right side of his screen was filled full of TankLive Instant Messenger notifications. Birch Gun navigated the mouse over the little square shaped bubble, clicking it and bringing up the application.

Instantly, another message popped up. It was from T57. Birch Gun brought up the chat to see that he had missed a few hundred messages.

In a hysterically berserk moment, Birch Gun sent a colourful message to T57. It said "WHY DO I HAVE 500 UNREAD MESSAGES?!"

"ITS URGENT BIRCH GUN," T57 frantically sent a message back. "BAD THINGS ARE HAPPENING!"

"What bad things?!" Birch Gun responded. He was clearly unhinged.

"I NEED TO EXPLAIN IT TO YOU? OK." T57 prepared to write a colossal message that could easily be passed off as a soliloquy. Except it was being sent to Birch Gun, but he suspected that the incoming message would all be about herself.

While T57 was writing the message, Birch Gun clicked on his internet browser. He checked his email: Blitz had gotten a new update! He crazily smashed his left mouse button, attempting to open the message (or dissect it with sheer force). When the reluctant message finally opened, he learnt that they had added planes to the game. Woo hoo!

T57's message finally arrived; luckily, it all wasn't in caps. Birch Gun opened it up, and began to read it…

"i fear that there are bad things coming to tankville. while u were at the hospital, lower tankville was sieged by some rogue tanks that dropped in from the sky. they were jet black m22 locusts droped by some big plane tht flew over tankvile"

"What happened after that?" Birch Gun's message was cool and calm, but anxiety was slowly overcoming him.

"they enterd our skool n held us up… the police came and seized them, but one of my classmates got shot"

"Shot? Really? Did they live?"

"i dunno… hes in hospital rite now"

"Wow. I hope my school doesn't get attacked. But knowing the students there, they'd fight off the Locusts without any resistance."

"wait wait wait! i can hear something going outside! id better check"

"No! Don't do that!" Birch Gun typed as fast as he could, but he got no reply.

Birch Gun listened out for noise. He drove to the window, seeing only smoke rising to the top of the clouds. Out of the smoke emerged a pitch black T32 with grey smoke emanating out of its gun. After the smoke cleared, Birch Gun saw a tank's corpse. The T32 received a shell from his front, but the shell merely exploded on his armour. Birch Gun couldn't see the tank that was firing at him, but he knew it was about to be dead.

A single shot from the T32 resulted in a shrill scream from the tank and more smoke. Birch Gun cowered in fear as the T32's turret turned to see his window. Birch Gun could see the rifling in his stone cold barrel. The heavy tank rolled forward, forgetting about Birch Gun… for the time being.

A T69 followed behind the T32; he was also jet black, with a big red stripe winding around his turret. There were three red stars on the end of his barrel. The American medium tank flew forward, ignoring everything in his path.

"Mum!" Birch Gun shouted hysterically. "What's going on outside?!"

Crusader SP was in Birch Gun's thirty seconds later, seeing the destruction that had occurred. "Oh my gosh… I had heard news about attacks, but not this serious…" She tensed up. "I was just making Bolognese; not watching the window…"

Birch Gun picked up some chanting from outside. "The revolution has begun!" The powerful voice echoed all over.

The SPG quickly heard the agonising noise of rejection – that was ended with a gunshot.

"Stay in the house, Birchie, and don't bring attention to yourself," Crusader SP instructed seriously. "I'll be downstairs."

Birch Gun watched the carnage unfold as a policeman whizzed across the street, only to get shot multiple times and stop moving. His gun drooped as he perished.

* * *

"I hope that was just a one off thing," Birch Gun murmured whilst trembling. He was helping himself to a bowl of nuts. As he scooped the last bunch of bits and bobs with his spoon, Crusader SP grabbed his backpack.

"I know that you're not supposed to do this, but I purchased some special armour-piercing shells. Just in case." Crusader SP was in the process of loading his backpack with these shells. "Your backpack might be a bit heavy."

"That's okay," Birch Gun replied. "Is my iPad in there?"

"Yes." Crusader SP gave the backpack to Birch Gun, who put it in his crew compartment.

Birch Gun uttered a goodbye and opened the door, feeling the cold air bite at his armour. It was a chilly day, which was strange, since it was summer. The school holidays were coming around, which made Birch Gun excited. He had decided to become an author, writing a novel called "Life in Tank Town". It followed the adventures of a M37 going to a school called Tracks School Academy. The M37 in the story had an AT-1 friend, who just happened to be a girl.

He had mapped the whole story out. The AT-1 would later friend zone M37, which would cause him to go insane and destroy everything. It's what Birch Gun predicted Hetzer would do…

After he destroys the school, AT-1 is next to die. M37 brutally murders her in cold oil, and then he drives over her corpse and immolates it. The burning corpse is then offered to the fire god Na'artix, who is an IS-4. The body is destroyed, and Na'artix himself comes down to cause Armageddon and destroy everything, just like M37 wanted.

Birch Gun went over his plan, and decided that it was nonsensical and possibly offensive. As he was driving to school, he attempted to think of new ideas for "Life in Tank Town". He was inspired massively when he saw a student tank on the road driving into a fire hydrant and making it explode with water in his face.

Clumsy idiot… check.

It then came to him that he could have used himself for that example. He continued on, seeing the outline of the academy. There was thick fog, which was very strange, considering that fog was rare in his region. He suddenly stopped when a black outline darted forwards to his left, disappearing into the misty curtains quickly. He almost screamed when a tank attacked him from behind.

With a quick, frenzied turn, he discovered that it was UE 57, who was also trying to navigate through the shield of fog.

"Hi!" UE 57 chirped. "I haven't seen you in so long!"

Birch Gun was honestly shocked to see UE 57 again; he was shocked to see _anyone _in the fog. "Hi, UE 57!" He responded with happiness. "How did you find me in this intense fog?"

"I recognised your engine sounds!" UE 57 replied. "Though, the sounds are like your old engine."

"Yeah…," Birch Gun muttered. "We ought to get to school." With that, Birch Gun turned around, turned his headlights on, and drove forward. UE 57 didn't have any headlights, so she stayed near Birch Gun, who was having a lot of trouble traversing with his impaired view.

After a few minutes of driving forwards, Birch Gun accidentally rammed into a wall, denting his damaged armour even more. The audible crash was followed with a cry of anger, which startled UE 57. After a few minutes of fumbling about, Birch Gun finally entered Tank Academy. It turned out that the cracked brick wall that he rammed into was one of Tank Academy's.

"What is the cause of all of this fog?" Birch Gun groaned heatedly. As soon as Birch Gun and his French friend entered the main hall, he saw the Leopard 1 statue that had recently been erected by crazed builders. That sight made Birch Gun groan even more.

"Birch Gun," UE 57 started solemnly. "I'm sorry that I couldn't visit you in hospital… Times at home have been hard recently."

"That's okay," Birch Gun answered. He then remembered about his engine; he needed to get that fixed, which was now. "I'm going to go get my engine back. Come with me." Birch Gun turned around and drove off – his destination was the cafeteria. UE 57 decided that following Birch Gun and watching his engine upgrade was more interesting than sitting by the golden Leopard 1 statue in the main hall, so she set off.

However, her crusade was halted by a tank grabbing her from behind, swerving her around. She shouted woozily while her focus came into view. The tank that dazed her was clearly strong…

"Snap out of it, soldier!" It was Hetzer; UE 57 recognised his voice.

"W-What?" UE 57 growled. She tried to hide her anger, but Hetzer could tell she was frustrated with his intervention.

"From now on, you will refer to me as General Hetzer, which is what I am. And do not use that tone with me, private!" Hetzer's speech was tainted by vituperation.

UE 57 sighed (which caused Hetzer to visibly increase in rage) and waited for Hetzer to speak again. She was painted with condemnation; and she wanted to condemn Hetzer to a sentence of death.

Hetzer's emotions lifted up considerably. "Now that we have that done with, we will meet at our secret headquarters."

UE 57 wanted to ask where these "secret headquarters" were, but Hetzer was already moving. UE 57's squalid nature was going to be the end of UE 57. She just knew it. With wretched hate, UE 57 followed Hetzer closely.

* * *

Birch Gun was in the cafeteria, attempting to use the Insta-Upgrade 3000. He remembered the last time he used it – he almost broke the screen with sheer excitement. The screen was slightly cracked and dented from when he used it before… he remembered putting those marks on it. He drove onto the large square pad, feeling the pad take his weight and adjust itself for him.

Birch Gun pressed the big red button on the machine, which made it turn on. The touchpad came on, displaying "Insta-Upgrade 3000" and emitting a voice clip: "Insta-Upgrade 3000. Please enter your tank model to begin!"

Birch Gun swiped the touchpad to find British SPGs. Eventually (after much swiping), he found Birch Gun and tapped on it. He rammed his gun onto the "Armstrong Siddeley V8 SC", which was the engine he wanted. The machine presented a small box that had a socket in it, and requested for Birch Gun to place his gun inside it to check for his identification. He did so, and the computer's screen turned a vibrant red and started beeping. The socket closed around his gun, preventing him from moving it out, stopping any form of escape (unless he blew off his gun). A little siren rose out of the top of the machine, making a horrible screeching sound to supplement the beeping.

"You are banned from using this machine!" the machine blarted, deafening Birch Gun and probably shattering a window. "You are banned from using this machine!" it repeated.

Birch Gun wanted to shout at the top of his cannon breech, but he couldn't do so. It was like being in a nightmare. His tracks spun in an attempt to get away, but to no avail.

A giant arrow jumped out of the top of the machine; it pointed downwards at Birch Gun and had lots of neon red lights blinking every few seconds. "You are banned for vandalism!"

As Birch Gun unfortunately listened to the robot's obnoxious messages, he realised that out there, some tank had to voice act this… unless it was a synthesised voice.

"You have vandalised this machine, and now I will vandalise you, tank!" the machine continued. Two large, menacing red eyes popped out of the front of the machine, staring at Birch Gun with its evil black pupils. An arm popped out of the side, armed with a gigantic hammer that could crush a car. Out of the other side came a smaller arm with a can of shaken spray paint.

The big arm with the colossal hammer rose skyward, ready to wallop Birch Gun and turn him into a patty. The other arm drew near, shaking the spray can.

On the other side of the cafeteria were some tanks watching Birch Gun's imminent death. "Ha! Look at that!" one of them cried.

"Looks like that tank's a bit doomed." He could barely contain his laughter, for it was the artillery that was doomed, and he was an outcast to mostly every tank in the school.

"You'd never catch me using that machine," a girl portentously coined in. She spoke with scorn while she looked at Birch Gun being restrained by the machine. "It's a death trap."

"You will pay!" the machine squawked crazily. "Three… two… one…" The hammer glided down in Birch Gun's direction, slicing through the air. Birch Gun was doomed. He thought he would live a nice life in a cottage, sitting by a fireplace and—wait… the hammer stopped.

The other arm had strangely started spraying everything in its line of sight; it seemed that it glitched out and started attacking everything. The other arm let go of the hammer, making it smash onto the ground and forming cracks in it. After that, the entire arm fell apart. There was a culprit; a shell fired from a gun. Birch Gun's saviour came into view.

"Cadence!" Birch Gun yelled with happiness.

The Spanish tank made her way over to Birch Gun, who was being smothered by red paint. She shot the other rogue arm, making it spin crazily and then explode, causing a tsunami of red paint to shower Birch Gun. He wasn't very pleased with his new paintjob.

"Just helping a friend, that's all." Cadence shot the machine one more time, just in case. The forty-five millimetre shell passed through the case of the machine with no resistance, gliding into the machinery and causing the machine to start expelling a noxious gas. "Take that, machine!" She sounded triumphant.

Birch Gun drove back in fear. The fumes were filling up the cafeteria. "I'm not sure if doing that was a good idea, Cadence…"

"Relax! It's fine!" Cadence managed to reassure Birch Gun, but he confirmed his initial thoughts when the machine started to glow red.

"Uh… are you sure?!" Birch Gun's voice was drowned out by an intense noise that the machine was emitting; and it wasn't the beeping. Cadence looked alarmed… and for Birch Gun, alarmed was an understatement. Birch Gun braced himself as the machine blew up in a brilliant mix of red, white and orange, and laid waste to everything around it, including Birch Gun. A fireball shot out of the sphere of harsh fire, hitting one of the ignorant tanks right on target. The girl screamed when his turret came off, falling on her and knocking her out.

The destruction wasn't over yet, as the ball consumed everything that went in its path. Cadence pulled Birch Gun out of the hellfire as the ball cracked the wall with pure heat. The wall tumbled down onto a rather irate tank: who unfortunately happened to be Leopard 1. His armour became red hot as he stormed into the cafeteria. He couldn't comprehend what was happening; he saw Cadence attempting to cool Birch Gun down with a glass of water she stole from a MS-1. He saw the mini sun that had appeared in his cafeteria. He saw a tank's turret laid on top of an unconscious girl.

Most of all, he realised that the fireball was going towards him. All he could do was scream (a rather shrill and prepubescent sounding scream) as Cadence's accidental creation consumed him.

"Y-You were right, Birch Gun; that wasn't a good idea…," Cadence muttered crestfallenly as the fireball exploded on the wall, causing Armageddon to happen inside the school.

* * *

An alarm sounded in Tankville Fire Department; surprisingly, that was the fifth fire that they had received news about that day. A burly T29, armed with a fire axe on his side and a cigar in his gun barrel exited the building along with an IS-2, who was entertaining himself with vodka.

"Wha' the hell's happenin' in this town?!" T29 sighed as he exhaled smoke. "It's like every damn building's on fire!"

IS-2 whistled; stopping as the alarm went off again. "There goes another one." He took a swig from his bottle of vodka.

"Well, le's just get it over with. I wonder how many kids have been scorched," T29 laughed. He was a fan of dark humour.

"What do you suppose this is all related to?" IS-2 asked, noticing that his bottle was empty. He had two options: be a respectful citizen and take the bottle with him, or throw it in a random bush and never think of it again. He chose the latter, keeping the bottle in a firm grip. He wanted to see if he could throw the bottle up in the air and shoot it as it comes down.

"I'd suppose it's related to the revolutionaries that have taken residence in Tankville. I guess they like arson – and keepin' the fire department busy."

"Hmm. Well, they certainly have done that." IS-2 watched another squad of firefighters setting off to a different location in Tankville.

"Sorry I'm late!" A puffing Comet drove by the two heavy tanks; armed with a pickaxe and a firetank's helmet that was way too big for him. "I needed to, ah, grab my equipment."

"We was gonna go on without ya, you big galoot!" T29 replied. "Or rather, small galoot."

"Shut up!" Comet retorted – he had clearly heard that before. IS-2 responded with a big, heavy laugh. "Don't tell me you find it funny, too!"

"Yes, I do!" IS-2 responded with another laugh.

Comet sighed. He could do much better than these idiots. His oversized firetank's helmet flew off his turret as he gained speed, being accidentally crushed by T29's broad, heavy tracks.

"Sorry!" T29 shouted at the advancing Comet, who hadn't even noticed that his helmet had fallen off. "I bets he's going to run straight into an E 100 and get himself beat up…"

For Comet, Tankville Road was in sight. His life flashed before him as he almost ran straight into an incoming E 100, making him spin out and crash into a wall.

"Watch where you're going!" the E 100 shouted angrily. Comet reversed backwards, turning a bit and going back onto his route.

Comet could already see the smoke rising from Tank Academy. A few screaming tanks were escaping from the blazing building; some of them were scorched and rather beaten up. Comet shuddered as one of them completely stopped; probably never to start again. This made Comet realise the importance of what he was doing. He pushed his engine to the max, feeling a burning feeling on his tracks as he flew forward like an arrow.

Comet stood near the entrance after that, waiting for his squad to arrive. T29 was the first to appear, armed with a small hose.

"Where's IS-2?" Comet asked frantically.

"He's off throwing his bottle in a bush." T29 turned towards the fire that was chewing at the school like it was a chocolate bar. "Holy RNJesus… that's a big fire."

Comet sighed. "I think we're going to need a bigger hose…"


	24. A Shadowy Organisation

Cadence screamed as the residue from the fireball caused an intense heat to appear inside the cafeteria. Other tanks were also screaming – but only for a few seconds until they succumbed to the heat. Birch Gun's body was without movement of any kind, which scared Cadence even more. Cadence was the only surviving tank in the room; but she feared that she'd be next. She felt as if her tracks were melting, which they probably were. Cadence had closed her viewports, for the brightness of the room around her was blinding. She grabbed Birch Gun's hull, painstakingly reversing out of the room. Relentless fire was licking at every single object in the room, including the door that Cadence drove into.

While Cadence was attempting to break the door open, a small little tank rushed to the cafeteria. It was UE 57, and she had been allowed to leave on Hetzer's note. She heard about the incident of the cafeteria, which she assumed was Birch Gun's destination as he was going to upgrade himself, presumably with the Insta-Upgrade 3000. When she learnt about the fire, she rushed there as quickly as she could.

The only thing that was preventing the surviving of Birch Gun and Cadence was the burning door. Despite that it was in a rather damaged state, with all the stress put on her, Cadence couldn't force it open. She could tackle a KV-1, but she couldn't break down a door. This really wasn't one of her best days…

In another part of the school, a big tank with a big gun was dashing through the school. He smashed through a door with desperate force, causing the wooden fragments to spray everywhere.

"Uhm… why is Mr. SU-152 rushing through?" a clueless B1 asked. He was in the hallway that SU-152 just surged through.

Her friend sighed. "Have you even heard about the fire?" The respondent was a Cruiser Mk. II. "I can smell the smoke from here!"

"Well, excuse me, princess!" B1 growled. "We can't all be as amazingly informed as you!"

"It's not exactly obscure news, Amélie." Cruiser Mk. II replied. Her brain had a sudden revelation. "Wait… shouldn't we be evacuating?" It seemed that being in the French heavy tank's presence made her dumber.

"Great idea!" Amélie responded. They were on one extreme end of the school and the fire was blazing through the other end, but the Cruiser Mk. II didn't particularly want to die. Amélie was thinking about her lunch that she ate earlier. _Croissants are so yummy_, she thought blissfully as Cruiser Mk. II dragged her towards the nearest exit.

About twenty metres away from the two tanks driving away was a jet black 59-16, armed with the eighty-five millimetre gun. He was completely still, aiming for a perfect shot on the Cruiser Mk. II. Nobody in the town knew him except for the other jet black tanks… and they didn't even know him very well.

Without even thinking about it, the Chinese tank fired, and the Cruiser Mk. II's life was over as fast as it had begun. The 59-16 didn't hesitate as he ran behind the B1, taking her down with a single pull. The B1 was on her side, instantly seeing her dead friend and the Chinese light tank. B1 began to scream, but her campaign of terror was quickly ended by the 59-16's action of slamming his gun barrel onto her turret relentlessly. She was out cold.

The 59-16 didn't have much trouble dragging the out-of-commission B1, despite her rather large size. He and his captive were out in five minutes. The only two sources of his arrival were the black, shiny oil spilling on the floor from the Cruiser Mk. II's corpse, which was still there with the disembodied turret, which was gathering oil like it was a bowl.

Mr. SU-152 hadn't wasted any time getting to the cafeteria, despite him hearing a shot behind him. He arrived at outside of the cafeteria, quickly screeching to a halt at the door. UE 57 was sitting by the wall, too scared to attempt to even enter.

The Russian tank destroyer blew the door open, sending it into oblivion. He fearlessly drove in, instantly seeing a knocked out Cadence with a knocked out Birch Gun. Upon grabbing the Spanish tank, Mr. SU-152 retorted from the intense heat that was on her body. He struggled to pull her out of the room, but he didn't hesitate. He did hesitate to breathe normally, however, when he noticed that there was more fire all around him. UE 57 noticed this as well, and she was about to scream.

"Stay calm!" Mr. SU-152 attempted to speak as coolly as possible, but it wasn't working. He dragged Cadence out of the room, who was smoking. UE 57 went round to her front, where she noticed that the glass on her viewports had cracked. She shuddered with terror as Mr. SU-152 delved in for the remaining "survivor" of the catastrophic incident.

On the other side of the blazing barricade, three tanks were making their way through the fire – armed with water. It turned out that the small fire hose that T29 was currently utilising was actually very effective.

As T29 saw the giant wall of fire that blocked Mr. SU-152's escape with the children, T29 exclaimed: "Hot damn… tha's a big fire."

"You don't say!" Comet replied sarcastically.

"I don't care! Time to unleash hell on it!" T29 yelled as he crazily sprayed the wall of fire with the fire hose. It did nothing but make the apparently anthropomorphic fire angrier as it retorted at T29, licking him with red tendrils of heat.

"That isn't going to work!" Comet shouted. "We need a bigger hose!"

Just as Comet replied to T29, Cadence drifted back into consciousness, instantly feeling an agonising searing pain all over her body. She could tell that she was alive as she was hearing the screams of UE 57 and a hissing sound, but she couldn't see anything.

"C-Cadence?!" UE 57 squealed in insane panic. "Mr. SU-152's come and put you out of the fire!"

Cadence couldn't see UE 57, so she turned to the source of the high pitched sound that happened to be her voice. She was about to say something, but she too squealed as a burning beam of some sort bashed her on the turret. "W-Why can't I see anything?!"

"Because your viewports have completely cra— wait! No!" UE 57 attempted to reply, but she was stopped mid-sentence by the horror of seeing the ceiling begin to cave in.

Mr. SU-152 could tell that there were tanks on the other side of the fire, armed with a fire hose. Struck with anger, he shouted, "Why don't you idiots get a bigger hose or something!?"

"Be patient!" an irate voice sounded over from the other side. It was IS-2. After another minute of useless "extinguishing", IS-2 gave up with watching his imminent fiery death and he left. "I'm off to go get a bigger hose."

UE 57 was crying now. She didn't often cry as her mood was too upbeat for that, but being surrounded by an enclosing circular curtain of fire was causing her to break down. She wailed as a bit more of the ceiling came down, tumbling onto the ground by her.

"This fire ain't budgin'!" T29 spoke as he attempted to ravage the fire with the fire hose. It worked on the other fires in the school, but this particular one was sturdy. The fire hose was much akin to a sprinkler that only managed to sprinkle one drop of water a minute.

Mr. SU-152 had worked out that his death was obviously going to happen, and he didn't want to spend any more time being tortured among the hellfire. When he was a little AT-1, he was very much a daredevil. He still remembered his best stunt from thirty years ago…

AT-1 was a rather crazy pyromaniac, and many of his "stunts" involved fire. His best stunt was him going over a few lit barrels of oil on a ramp. One of his friends thought that it would be funny to shoot one of the oil barrels, making it explode into a balefire when little Mr. SU-152 went over it. His laughing friends were soon not laughing after that as the enraged tank destroyer dispatched of them brutally. In that day, little Mr. SU-152 was responsible for three murders.

As soon as his mother heard of this, she decided to disown him. Mr. SU-152 was an angry child, but his mother didn't know that he could kill. The AT-1 fled from Buzakovo (which was the country that they lived in) across two other countries in a week. The police that went after him soon learnt that he was a born master of camouflage and gunnery. In that week, the number of tanks Buzakovo's police force dropped by 18%. He lived for countless years in hiding…

As he was dwelling on all of this, a bit of the ceiling dropped on his superstructure roof, which snapped him out of his shameful remembering of his wretched past.

"You know what?! I don't care!" Mr. SU-152 yelled dementedly. "You capitalist yank! Guess what? I'll yank your gun off your turret and I'll shove it up your—"

"Excuse me, but we're trying to save you here!" Comet sounded over the agitated Russian. "And how do you even know we're capitalist?!"

"I can tell by your accent!" Mr. SU-152 madly retorted. He considered firing straight through the impassable wall of flames, but then he considered that such an incident would probably not look good for him. "Now hurry up, so I don't get killed!"

T29 suddenly seemed less compelled to save this tank. Luckily for the tanks on the other side, IS-2 arrived with a gargantuan hose that could put out a forest fire without much effort.

T29's viewports almost fell off his turret in shock when he saw the colossal hose. "That'll definitely work!"

The fire was doused almost instantly when IS-2 switched it on. Mr. SU-152 had been preparing himself for this; not for the great escape, but him mangling a certain American tank. As soon as the barrier of fire between the firefighters and the students and teacher was penetrated, Mr. SU-152 angrily threw himself at T29.

"We're free!" UE 57 squealed with crazy joviality. She bounded out of the hall just in time to see Mr. SU-152 try and ram a heavy tank. He grunted painfully; even more so when T29 shot him in self-defence.

"I can't see! Help!" Cadence shouted out to UE 57, who was in the process of watching Mr. SU-152 attack the firefighter. UE 57 instantly realised that Cadence was there, and she tried to pull her. Birch Gun was also there, but he seemed to be in a bit of an unrepairable state… and he would be rather hard to pull.

"You big idiot!" T29 yelled in a rage. "Let us do our work!"

"NO!" Mr. SU-152 shouted lividly. With that, he decided to blow up T29. The resulting explosion from his cannon made the fire hose split, therefore making it useless. T29 drove backwards, barely being able to function after being hit by a gigantic howitzer. His hull was black and slightly disfigured, and his coaxial machine gun was now non-existent.

Comet and IS-2 were immediately in T29's defence; Comet took his fire axe and lobbed himself at Mr. SU-152, obviously to no avail.

"That won't work!" IS-2 warned Comet, but it was too late as he was already being crushed by Mr. SU-152's tracks and weight.

UE 57 decided that this was going nowhere. "I'll go get help," she told Cadence, who was frozen still with fear. She was in fear of basically anything at that moment. She was a tough girl, but even tough girls broke down after having their eyes literally melt…

UE 57 barged past Mr. SU-152, who almost crushed her whilst stomping on Comet's turret roof. T29 took his track off with a shell, but he didn't care. He suddenly managed to care when he realised that he couldn't bring his gun down onto T29 to reciprocate with a shot of his own as Comet was under him.

UE 57 put all of that behind him and went forward, desperately looking for help. A tank that she could find that could put all of this right. She predicted on a whim that the next tank that she saw would be the one to help her save Cadence and Birch Gun. Her wish was thrown onto the ground and stomped when she saw Churchill Gun Carrier in the middle of the hallway, gawking at a wall. There was a bit of fire blazing around him, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Churchill Gun Carrier?" UE 57 asked.

He didn't reply.

UE 57 groaned with frustration and drove over to Churchill Gun Carrier, who was standing perfectly still. She tapped him on the side with her gun and he suddenly reanimated himself, shaking about like a demented penguin on drugs.

"Churchill Gun Carrier!" UE 57 repeated hotly.

"Wow!" Churchill Gun Carrier murmured with vivid astonishment "This is the first time a girl has spoken to me!" He slowly turned and stared at UE 57, who was becoming rather irate now. "At least, I think it's a girl…"

"I can hear you, you know!" UE 57 snapped. "People are in danger and dying and you're more interested in talking to yourself?"

"Yes, actually," Churchill Gun Carrier exclaimed with hubris. It quickly descended into self-hating shame mortification. "It's b-because I can't do anything and...-"

"Just follow me!" UE 57 didn't care for empathetic emotions when tanks were in danger. UE 57 took Churchill Gun Carrier by the track and started to pull him with great effort. Unfortunately (and obviously) for her, her extensive efforts were in vain, and Churchill Gun Carrier just continued to stand there, looking at the wall again.

"Fine! I don't care if you die!" UE 57 growled, doing a sassy turn and driving away. She hoped that Churchill Gun Carrier would suddenly gain morals and help the little blue tank destroyer, but he didn't know what those were.

When UE 57 returned to the quarrelling tanks, she saw that T29 was gun wrestling with Mr. SU-152. The Russian was winning, which didn't surprise UE 57. IS-2 was trying to unflatten Comet, who was as flat as a spiky, ridged pancake. There were clear indentations on the roof of his hull, which suggested that Mr. SU-152 jumped up and down on him. That must have been painful…

UE 57 slipped past the angry tanks and went to Cadence and Birch Gun. Cadence was crying lots of oil, and Birch Gun appeared to be lifeless, still.

"I tried to get help, but mostly everyone's evacuated the building. And since our firefighters are being extremely unintelligent right now, I'd say that we're all going to die in here," UE 57 gravely informed the blind tank. The room was heating up like a furnace now, and fires were starting to reignite.

"I don't care! Just get me out of here!" Cadence whined incoherently. She was seriously scared.

UE 57 drove over to Cadence and began to haul her out of the area. Mr. SU-152 had managed to bend T29's barrel at a ninety degree angle, which annoyed him so much that he attempted to commit seppuku with said barrel. After multiple unsuccessful tries of disembowelment (as if tanks have bowels), he just smacked Mr. SU-152 in the superstructure instead, which made the angry Russian angrier.

"Faster!" Cadence ordered. "Faster! Frankly, I don't feel like dying!"

"Well, you will if you don't shut up, otherwise I'll just drop you here!" UE 57 retorted. She was finally able to resume her business of painstakingly pulling Cadence half way across the school without input, because that single response shut her up for the rest of the journey.

As they reached the exit, UE 57 noticed that the golden statue of Leopard 1 had a banner over it saying "END HIERARCHY! JOIN THE TANK REVOLUTION TODAY!" She also noticed that the statue was rather defaced; Leopard 1's statue apparently grew a moustache during the fire. This defamation of Leopard 1 being credited by the "Tank Revolution" could only mean one thing: the Tank Revolution was behind this! Whoever they were.

"Idiots! I knew that squad would never get anything done!" a gruff voice shouted and then appeared in front of UE 57, driving past her and going to the left. More big tanks followed him, armed with firefighter equipment. UE 57 realised that those were extra firefighters sent to cover up the initial "fire" fighters' idiocy and to get the job actually done.

UE 57 finally exited the building, only to see a ton of tanks, most injured. UE 57 and Cadence were suddenly surrounded by confused tanks asking questions like: "How did you get out?", "How didn't you die?" and "Why are you hauling that piece of junk behind you?"

"Hey! I'm not a piece of junk!" Cadence objected, to which the tank who said that apologised for thinking that a partially black and melted tank was not dead. Cadence didn't know it was sarcastic or not, but she really wasn't in a state to tell if the tank was being so.

UE 57 was being distracted so much that she completely forgot about her great friend Birch Gun, who was roasting in that room, along with all of the other idiots. She heroically decided that it was her duty to save her friend. That would be worth a lot of favours.

UE 57 was just about to re-enter the razing academy, but she suddenly stopped. In front of her was a forming shadow that just came into view. The figure opened the doors of Tank Academy and dashed towards UE 57 instantly – but it took the vehicle a few seconds to get to her. By that time, UE 57 had found out that it was Birch Gun, who had somehow survived being assaulted by a lot of fire.

UE 57 was quite frankly bewildered. She expected Birch Gun to die, but there he was, somehow not dead.

"H-Hello…," the artillery murmured. A few seconds after his initial speech, he noticed Cadence sitting in the middle of the grounds, perfectly still. He thought it was a bit weird, but he didn't feel like going over to her. He had no energy. He just assiduously drove through a blazing fire, narrowly escaping a Russian tank destroyer's gigantic shell.

"How did you survive?" UE 57 asked, still shocked.

"I have no idea!" Birch Gun replied. "I didn't even get my engine back…," Birch Gun continued crestfallenly.

"What caused the fire to happen? I know it was in the cafeteria," UE 57 inquired. More squads of firefighters were moving into the school.

"Move aside!" a gruff voice bellowed. There was a large, red boxy vehicle driving into the school. It donned the same badge as the tank firefighters, but it wasn't a tank. It had a fire hose built into it. Birch Gun watched in a mix of fear and curiosity as the vehicle drove by.

After that, Birch Gun set himself on answering UE 57's question. "It was the Insta-Upgrade 3000. I went to get my old engine back, but the machine decided to go rogue on me and start trying to kill me. Cadence deactivated it, but she must've done something to anger it, because it decided to explode…"

"Wow…" was all that UE 57 could say. She was just about to continue on with her conversation, but a loud voice drowned her out as she began to speak.

It was STA-1, who was armed with a big megaphone. "There is no point of you staying here anymore! You could possibly get hurt, so just go home."

As soon as every student in the area heard that, they went to leave. A river of tanks formed, streaming into Ruskie and Tankville. Some of the tanks veered off to the left into another town, but there weren't many.

Cadence was left there, expecting somebody to assist her. UE 57 tapped her on her hull roof, making her turret turn towards to where UE 57 presumably was.

"We'll help you get home," UE 57 exclaimed. "Just follow the sound of my engine."

"But w-wait – shouldn't I be going to hospital?" Cadence questioned.

"It'll be better if you go to the hospital with your mum," UE 57 answered. "The school won't help, anyway. They're useless."

Cadence agreed and UE 57 began to lead her to her house. She and Cadence moved forward, leaving Birch Gun querying what happened.

"What happened to Caden—" Birch Gun went forward and asked, but stopped mid-sentence as he looked at Cadence's viewports. "-oh…"

"They just happened to melt!" Cadence growled and then sighed.

Birch Gun didn't say anything else, in fear of triggering Cadence's anger more. She seemed pretty irate.

"There's my house!" UE 57 pointed it out and swerved in the direction of her house. "See ya!"

"Bye," Birch Gun responded. "I wonder what will happen to us, since the school's closed…"

"Maybe we'll have some time off!" Cadence beamed. "I'll probably be in hospital for a few days, though, so that won't be very useful."

"Yeah…" Birch Gun's house was now coming into his sight. "Which house is yours?"

"It's yellow. Mamá is normally waiting for me by the door, but obviously she won't, since it's not the end of the school day."

"I see it," Birch Gun responded, leading Cadence towards the door. The only problem was that there were two yellow houses close to each other; and Cadence didn't specify which one. So Birch Gun chose a house at random, hoping that it was the right house. It didn't help that they looked exactly the same…

"Thanks!" Cadence voiced. Birch Gun acknowledged her thanks and went off on his journey to his own house.

Cadence knocked on the door three times. The door opened before her, revealing a rather crazed AT-1 who was in the process of shaving his tank beard.

"Wharrayouwan'?" he asked, visibly frustrated.

Cadence instantly realised that Birch Gun got the wrong house. She then knew it was the other yellow house on the street, which an insane AT-1 lived in, constantly accusing people of stealing his bush. Her house was to the left. "Uhm, sorry – I've got the wrong house." Cadence turned to leave, but the AT-1 stopped her.

"You ain't going nowhere!" AT-1 snarled, pulling Cadence into the room, making her scream. AT-1 shut the door and locked it. "I've got 'er!" he announced.

"Great!" a familiar voice sounded from in another room. It was familiar to Cadence, anyway. It sounded mischievous, German and… oh no…

"Ahaha!" Hetzer suddenly appeared, coming out of one of the rooms. "It is time!"

"What! What do you mean?!" Cadence yelled desperately. She recognised Hetzer's voice and associated it with trouble. She intended to teach Hetzer a lesson, but she obviously couldn't do it while she was blind and in captivity.

"…It's time for you to join the Organisation of Spanish Speakers!" Hetzer replied happily and clearly without any vindictive, malevolent or malicious intent.

Cadence was sceptical. "I'd rather go home, thanks."

"That is not possible," Hetzer retorted sternly and sharply. His voice had a strangely high level of clarity, but it was still murky with dark motives. His voice turned back to its cheerful, virtuous state. "I will recruit some more Spanish speakers, and we will all speak Spanish in harmony!"

"What if I don't want to?" Cadence asked innocently, but she was just testing Hetzer's mood (which was clearly not a good idea)…

"Then you will die!" Hetzer barked unintentionally. He let the anger get the better of him again, which wasn't good for his "clean" act. He wanted to lure Cadence into his devious, clever trap – but it wasn't working. Cadence wasn't stupid.

Hetzer drove over to his AT-1 friend. "Thank you Sergey for letting me hide in your house while the cops search for me. I probably shouldn't have presented my ID, but the police didn't let me, and I had to run away."

"That's fine, mate," AT-1 replied happily.

"Now, why don't we celebrate with some drinks?" Hetzer offered. Cadence could tell that that Hetzer was being sinister again. AT-1 didn't seem to notice, which would be his downfall…

AT-1 nodded his gun, accepting Hetzer's gracious offer with open tracks. He went into the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing some tank cola. "Let's get ready to partaay!" AT-1 yelled.

"Yes. Let's…," Hetzer growled ominously. AT-1 didn't notice his tone, but it was too late anyway. Hetzer shut and locked the kitchen door behind him, which made AT-1 a little nervous.

"What are you doing, Hetzer?" AT-1 asked, trembling.

"Just making sure that our guest doesn't hear - that's all." Hetzer spoke with upmost confidence and clarity as he loaded a shell into his cannon breech. AT-1 heard the sound and fired at once in defence, but the small shell harmlessly pinged off Hetzer's armour. With one shot, AT-1 was dead. The oil in his fuel tank shot out as he died, splattering onto Hetzer's sloped front. Finally, the tank exploded in a violent display of reds and yellows, causing the worktop to be damaged. Hetzer cursed AT-1's dead body for damaging it – this was his house now.

Hetzer unlocked the door and slammed it open, almost taking it off its hinges. As if that wasn't enough, the force of the door caused a crack to appear in the wall.

"That is what happens to tanks who attempt treason on me!" Hetzer shouted angrily. In a split second, he calmed down. "Anyway, welcome to my new house!"

Cadence knew that that AT-1 hadn't committed treason, but she wasn't about to speak up in his defence. He kicked the bucket, and Cadence probably would as well if she said anything.

"This will be the new base for the Organisation of Spanish Speakers, which you are joining," Hetzer informed Cadence. The last bit of the sentence was rushed and angry. "Got it?" When Cadence reply, Hetzer burst and repeated himself; but this time, he was exasperated and spat his words.

"Yes…" Cadence sighed. When would she get out of here?

"Good. You are now dismissed," Hetzer replied coolly. He expected Cadence to unlock the door and leave, but she instead drove around in a circle, trying to feel for something. "YOU ARE DISMISSED!" he repeated at a significantly higher volume. "If you don't get out in this instant, then I will personally gut you and put you on the oven! NOW GO!"

Luckily for the Spanish tank, she found the door and literally drove through it. This made Hetzer very agitated, and he fired at the wall in frustration, creating a hole in it. Cadence got out of there as fast as she could as Hetzer jumped up and down on the floor in pure rage.

She found her house soon after, knocking on the door three times. The door opened and Mamá greeted her and let her in, having received a letter about the fire. They were written and personally delivered by tired students who were probably bribed with no homework for the next few months.

As Cadence entered, Mamá noticed her viewports were completely cracked, which made it almost impossible (completely impossible in Cadence's case) to see. With sincere terror, she cried, "Oh no! What happened to you?!"

"I got caught in the fire," Cadence responded solemnly. "I was lucky enough to be pulled out by a brave teacher – who then decided to attack the firefighters who were quite frankly not doing a very good job at doing anything."

"Well, at least you're safe," Mamá replied joyfully, scanning the letter. "Hmm…"

"What's on the letter?" Cadence asked.

"It says here that you'll be transferred to a different school temporarily while Tank Academy is being repaired – and that school is St. Trackston School in Barrelburg… which is a fair while away."

"B-But I'm bli—"

"Which means you'll be at the hospital. So there's nothing to worry about, sweetness." If Mamá could smile, then she would be right now.

* * *

"Barrelburg?" Nashorn yapped as she read through the letter. "That's ridiculous! I'm not having my sweet little Renault UE 57 drive straight through Oil Woods to get there!"

"I could go around," UE 57 suggested.

"If you go around, then it would take hours to get to the school. Oil Woods is far too dangerous. I've heard that the kids there wait in bushes for an unsuspecting pedestrian to walk by, and then they squirt them with oil!"

"Honestly, Mum, that isn't too bad…," UE 57 objected.

"Oil and water! You know what happens when you get water on you, don't you?" Nashorn replied.

"I rust up."

"Exactly. Also, apparently, bullies are rampant at St. Trackston, so I wouldn't imagine that you'd do well there, given that your size isn't exactly imposing…"

"It's not like bullies aren't rampant at Tank Academy," UE 57 muttered inaudibly. "Wait!" she squeaked, suddenly thinking of an idea. "If I disguise myself as a SPG, I could go to SPG Academy while all of this is happening!" UE 57 squeaked, pleased with herself.

"Yes, but they will tell the school where every student is meant to go, so that won't work." Nashorn turned around while UE 57 was still thinking of more arguments. Since UE 57 hadn't had school dinners as the day didn't even progress into that time before the school went on fire, Nashorn was making a sandwich for her daughter. "Aluminium or corrugated?"

"Aluminium, please. Also, this is Tank Academy we're talking about. Since Leopard 1 became the head teacher, when has the school ever done anything right?"

"You're quite right there," Nashorn snickered. "Maybe it'll work, considering Tank Academy's state – but I wouldn't try it."

Nashorn's comment transformed from "I wouldn't try it" – meaning "don't do it" into "It's a great idea!" in UE 57's mind. She instantly set herself on that task; the task to infiltrate SPG Academy and become an artillery for… however long it takes to mend a razed school. All she needed was a cardboard tube.

* * *

It was night in Tankville, and M5A1 was slowly creeping around in Tankville Square, which was a big plaza not far from Tankville Road. A big water fountain spouted out the liquid, but it didn't any more, as the revolutionaries had taken the square and vandalised everything in it. Floor tiles were cracked or missing, benches were broken… it was defaced.

M5A1 Stuart intended to join these revolutionaries and support them in their endeavours. She knew that they wanted to take over Tankville (and they were almost done with their objective) and convert it into a full military town, but she didn't know what the group's goals were beyond that. She assumed that they were going to take over other towns and convert those as well, but she wasn't sure. She didn't care, either. She was going to join, either way. She wanted power.

"Hostiles! Move forward!" an invisible voice sounded, scaring M5A1 Stuart. She couldn't be seen here; otherwise she would probably be shot. Tankville Square had some new rules applied, like "No driving in Tankville Square after 12:00 AM"… and it was 2 AM. Oh well. She had to sneak away from Type T-34, who would definitely not support her decision of joining a group of rebels.

Fortunately for the Chinese tank, she wasn't considered a hostile: the police force were (at least to the revolutionaries), and they were the ones engaging them. M5A1 Stuart ducked as a whistling shell passed over her head, connecting with an invisible tank. A mighty explosion rung through M5A1 Stuart's turret as a flash of colours shot out of the now deceased tank. M5A1 Stuart drove forwards, hearing another shot whizz past her, blowing another tank up. It was clear to her that the insurgents were winning, which was good.

"Are there any more left?" one asked, scanning the environment with his eyes. The spotlight on the top of his turret shone across the square, creating a laser of light.

"I don't think so," one replied. "Some resistance they put up there… two tanks? I could kill them with my viewports closed," he sneered.

The spotlight on the other tank's turret flew over to M5A1 Stuart's area, lighting her up like a scout tank with optics, hiding in a bush. As the light reflected on her armour, M5A1 Stuart froze completely out of fear. She planned to tap on of the tanks on the hull and ask to join; not to be discovered like this.

"Enemy!" the tank yelled, before realising that the "enemy" was a child. His gun lowered down. "Why are you out at this time, kid?"

"Because I want to join you!" M5A1 Stuart replied happily.

The two tanks scanned M5A1 Stuart, from tracks to turret. After a few seconds of silence, the tank with the spotlight responded: "Hmm… with some renovation, I'm sure you could do something useful. What's your name?"

"M5A1 Stuart." She was calm on the outside, but inside, she was exploding with happiness. She was now imagining all of the power that she could get.

"A light tank, hmm?" the other tank muttered in thought. "Are you any good at reconnaissance?"

M5A1 Stuart had no experience with being a scout – all she did was attack things. "Yeah," she lied.

"Good. We will take you in and see if you are up to the test – and if you are not a spy," the tank with the spotlight answered. The last part of his sentence was said with sinister intentions. The tank with the spotlight turned around; a few seconds later, the tank without the spotlight turned as well. "Come with me."

M5A1 Stuart found herself driving with two large, strong tanks into a large tunnel which M5A1 Stuart hadn't seen before. This tunnel was in Ruskie, so she had to travel behind these tanks for a bit more time. The tunnel was poorly lit, and most of the lights flickered on and off. Most of them didn't even work at all. The beam of light projected by the spotlight on the tank was enough for M5A1 Stuart to see ahead of her, so it was okay. This tunnel went left and then forward, going into a town that M5A1 Stuart didn't even know existed. Before they entered the town however, they had to pass a gate. A bored looking tank stood by the gate.

"Welcome back," the tank groaned with monotone, deadbeat speech. "Go through the gate…"

The three tanks went through the gate, coming out into a small town that looked rather insignificant. Little houses were dotted around the town. Most of them looked shoddy and poorly built.

One building that stood out from the rest was a fairly large building that was surrounded by bleak, dead trees. The building looked well built, but it also looked like it wanted to be hidden. There were only a few lights in the town, but none of these lights were situated around the big building.

"First, we need to let people know that you're one of us," the tank with the spotlight M5A1 Stuart as they drove along the street. "That is, if you are one of us."

"We'll paint you black and put that little insignia on your turret," the other tank continued. "Since you're a scout, you'll need some black camouflage."

"Urban camouflage, I'd say," the tank with the spotlight began. "We'll be doing our business mainly in towns and cities, at night."

After a few minutes of driving, the three tanks reached the large building. One of the tanks rammed the door open, holding it open for his associate and M5A1 Stuart. The three tanks entered.

The building had plain black walls and a light; but apart from that, there wasn't any decoration. There was a jet black trapdoor that was situated at the back of the room, which one of the tanks opened and entered. The open trapdoor revealed some stairs that went down into a cellar. The trio entered the cellar, which was made out of large, stone blocks. There was a single candle in the middle of the room, standing on a huge, brown table. This table had some poker cards on it, for there were a few tanks playing the game.

"Everyone, welcome our new recruit – M5A1 Stuart!" the tank with the spotlight announced. A few tanks turned their turret to look at her, but they went back to their game hastily. M5A1 Stuart suddenly felt dwarfed by all of these dark, strong tanks – she was a mere child. Would they accept her?

"Don't worry. They'll warm up to you," the tank with the spotlight reassured M5A1 Stuart. He changed the subject. "All right; it's time for you to do the training. But first, you have to sign a contract for some important things."

"Okay…," M5A1 Stuart muttered.

"I'll go get the papers," the other tank chimed in. He drove up the stairs and disappeared.

While they were waiting, the remaining tank explained what the building was. "This is our main headquarters, in the conquered town of Zzostzy, which is where we are now. We thought Zzostzy was a stupid name (and it is), so we named it to Ghosst, because it's a ghost town. We drove all of the townspeople out to Ruskie and took it over. It's called Ghosst because it's a ghost town, since it literally only has members of our group in the town."

M5A1 Stuart nodded to show acknowledgement.

"We put a gate in and offered one of the townspeople a "very important job" – manning the gate. He now sits there 24/7, waiting for our members to want to enter or exit. His only purpose in life is to pull a lever which opens the door. If he tried to escape, we would catch him and execute him for deserting his post. Is this a life you want to be living, having to crush villages and kill civilians? If it is needed, of course."

M5A1 Stuart was getting mighty excited about all of this. She squealed, "Yes!"

The tank was taken back by her enthusiasm. "Well, that's good. We have taken many cities now and have moved into Tankville from the south. We have to sneak through Ruskie to get to Ghosst, because we haven't captured Ruskie yet. The middle of Tankville has been broken through to and is now secured by us. We have made an example of Tank Academy by setting it on fire. I received reports that an extremely unintelligent Birch Gun set our bomb off by activating it."

M5A1 Stuart knew exactly what he was talking about. "The Insta-Upgrade 3000…"

"Yes. And from what I saw, it certainly worked. We've stressed Tankville's fire and police departments so much, they're crumbling. Once most of Tankville is captured, we intend to lay a siege upon Tankville Hospital, and then the Tankville City Hall, where the mayor is situated."

M5A1 Stuart didn't expect that a member would spill all of this confidential information out to a possible spy, but she didn't complain. "Then where will you go?"

"Once Tankville is captured, we will move onto the neighbouring cities and attack those. We will have seized control of ten settlements, which is a good number. Soon, all of Tank Country will be ours!" He paused, probably for effect. "We will make this country a strictly fascist government! There will be no civilians. It will be either: you join the army or our party, or you die!"

M5A1 Stuart liked this idea. Maybe if she was a good girl, the revolution would grant her some land after they took over the world. She could imagine herself as a ninja like scout, achieving great feats with her whispering engine and her clear, magnified viewports. She would be a legend.

"Soon, the people of Tankville will learn of this and they will submit to our regime! Our leader is a Jagdpanzer E 100, whose name is Der Herr Meister Amwolf Adlersflügel. He is a great man who has no mercy for common scum such as the people in Tank Country. They will all die in oil and anguish if they do not praise our leader and work for us!"

"Der Herr Meister Amwolf Adlersflügel, hmm?" M5A1 Stuart rasped unintentionally; she had trouble pronouncing the name. "He sounds like a powerful tank."

"You will only address our Lord Master as "Der Herr Meister", thank you," the tank retorted indignantly. "He is too mighty to be called by his normal name, unless if we are in situations like this."

The other tank who had grabbed the contract had barrelled down the stairs, almost falling over. "I'm 'ere! Got the papers!"

"Very good," the tank with the spotlight replied with authority. "You will give these to M5A1 Stuart at once."

The tank handed the papers to M5A1 Stuart, who took them jovially. She scanned the paper from top to bottom, seeing if there was any small text.

"Oh, and also," the tank with the spotlight began, making M5A1 Stuart look at him. "My name is Jakob, and that klutz over there is Kleine Trottel. I am an AMX M4 mle. 45 who has seen the error of my ways and has converted myself into Pz. M4 745 (f), which has made me into a pure, righteous tank."

"And I am a STA-1," Kleine Trottel coined in. "My name was originally Hayate, but it was changed in order to sound more like a traditional name of our organisation. I feel that there is some insult behind the name, but I would not know, as my German isn't particularly good."

"That's why we called him Kleine Trottel," Jakob whispered whilst giggling to himself.

"Excuse me?" Kleine growled.

"Nothing…," Jakob murmured giddily. He straightened up and solemnly spoke. "Are you ready to sign this paper, M5A1 Stuart?" After watching M5A1 Stuart fish around for an invisible object, he got some senses and produced a pen for the Chinese tank. It was a cheap, ballpoint pen that you could probably buy for 99p at a shop, but it didn't matter. It did matter when the pen broke on M5A1 Stuart, however.

"Will they accept M5A1 Sturr?" she sheepishly asked.

Jakob took the paper and read it. M5A1 Stuart was now in the hands of the Tank Revolution, which really needed a better name. "It doesn't matter now," he replied evilly. "You're one of us now."


	25. The Black Barrels

"Mum! Do you have a cardboard tube lying around anywhere?!" UE 57 called from the bathroom, having failed to loot the bathroom for a cardboard tube. Sometimes tanks needed to clean their exhaust pipes…

Nashorn appeared in the room, seeing UE 57 dig through the cabinet, throwing out towels and spray cans. They bounded onto the floor, making a loud sound. Nashorn squealed in horror when she saw her expensive perfume tumble onto the tiled floor. She only wore that for dates!

"UE 57!" she yelled. "My perfume!" Nashorn picked it up, noticing that the fancy looking cube had cracked. The sweet smelling liquid was oozing out of the crack, dripping onto the floor.

Nashorn sighed, putting her gun downwards. She set the perfume on the floor, intervening with UE 57's plunder, and moving her aside. "If you really really want a cardboard tube," Nashorn began, "then you can just take one from a roll." Nashorn took a roll of toilet paper and fumbled with it, trying to make the tube come out of it. After a minute of fiddling with the white roll, she prized the tube from its cage of white exhaust pipe-wiper, handing it to UE 57.

"Thanks, mum!" UE 57 screeched, hopping out of the bathroom and disappearing into her bedroom. Nashorn turned around to face the opened door, wondering what she needed a cardboard tube for.

UE 57 flew onto her bed, grabbing a blue felt-tip pen and setting the tube on her bedside cabinet. Hastily, she drew on the cardboard tube, staining it a dark blue, just like she was. After her procedure was done, the cardboard tube looked not at all like an artillery's gun, like she wanted it to look like. The white kill marks she shoddily drew onto the barrel broke the immersion on a huge scale.

All she needed now was tape, and she could possibly pass as an artillery piece. She had some tape in her cabinet she was saving for some reason, so she took that out, setting it on the table. School started again in a week, and she was determined to be with Birch Gun in SPG Academy, away from the bullies in St. Trackston. All of her other friends would be at St. Trackston, but UE 57 didn't care. She had had her experiences with bullies, and she decided that she didn't even want to risk being in the same school as them, which was impossible, unfortunately…

After ripping some tape from the roll, UE 57 stuck it onto the blue tube, fitting it on herself. She looked nothing like an artillery. It didn't help that she had no idea what she was trying to imitate. Hopefully the school wouldn't notice…

UE 57 looked out of the window; it was getting dark. The sun was setting, slowly creating a dark sky. Tankville had been created a curfew now: from 10 PM to 6 AM. This was directly because of the revolutionaries, which were ploughing through Tankville like an AMX ELC on a racetrack. UE 57 feared for Birch Gun; he'd probably be the tank to go out beyond the curfew, getting himself destroyed by a revolutionary. But most of all, UE 57 was apprehensive about Cadence, who would need to go to hospital. Tankville Hospital would be an ideal place for the revolutionaries to attack – it would stir up all kinds of mayhem.

Most of the civilians of Tankville hadn't heard about the Revolution until now; they were heavy sleepers. After a sleepy KV-3 forgot about his son's fourth birthday, he went to the 24/7 supermarket to buy his son a birthday cake, but it wasn't 24/7 after the Revolution raided it, going straight past the warning sign in Tankville Plaza. The next minute, his turret was lying on the discorded tiles, smoking. His killer was an AMX 13 75 painted jet black, who went around his side as quiet as a tip-toeing mouse, instantly placing a shot into his ammo rack. The tank's corpse was lying in a ditch fifteen minutes after.

When the Mayor of Tankville heard about this, he ordered a curfew. He also ordered his servants to board up his windows in the Tankville City Hall, because extra protection was necessary. He lived in a luxurious part of the City Hall, but he had to move into his self-improvised bunker for protection after his children started getting nightmares about revolutionaries spray canning them red. One more move from the Revolution, and he would have to initialise a lockdown.

After a few hours of playing Thunder of War, UE 57 got tired and threw herself onto her bed, slowly drifting off to sleep. She couldn't stop thinking about the situation that awaited her; going to SPG Academy with Birch Gun… if that could even happen, thanks to the Revolution. They would probably burn that school down too, and then where would all of the tanks go to? St. Trackston? That school would be overfilled…

Then they'd probably burn St. Trackston down too when they got to Barrelburg. The police force wasn't enough. UE 57 hoped that eventually, the military would involve themselves with these insurgents.

Eventually, UE 57 got to sleep, but she was awakened by a shrill scream that came from downstairs. UE 57 froze for a couple of seconds, and then she flew out of bed, tumbling down the ramp and driving to the source of the noise. It was Nashorn, who had been assaulted by a stray jet black. It was a 59-16, who had decided to attack UE 57's house for whatever reason. He realised that he had broken into the wrong house as soon as he had seen the Nashorn watching "Bachfosse's Next Top Ausführung."

Nashorn wasn't feeble though; she whacked the 59-16 over the head with her heavy gun, causing it to go a bit wobbly. UE 57 came down quickly enough to see Nashorn booting the 59-16 out of the door. Then, casually as if the incident never happened, she sat back down on the sofa, rewinding her programme to get back to the part she was at.

"Mum?" UE 57 murmured.

Nashorn suddenly noticed her, pausing the programme again. "Yes, ma chérie?"

"A-Are you okay? I saw that black tank attack you. Did he hurt you?"

Nashorn laughed. "Pshaw! A puny tank like that could never hurt me. It's strange how he was muttering something when he came in. Something like "B something gun"... it was very weird. But I guess self-proclaimed ninjas are like that."

"Wait!" UE 57 squawked. "What did he mutter?"

"Something like B gun," Nashorn repeated.

"Oh my SerB!" UE 57 had a sudden realisation. B gun? That could be Birch Gun! UE 57 hastily looked up to the clock: it was 1 AM.

"Mum! Can I go out? I need to do… something," UE 57 asked, expecting an immediate denial.

"Whuh?" Nashorn exclaimed splutteringly, discombobulated by the sheer absurdity of the question. "There's a curfew…"

"I need to go save Birch Gun from the enemies!" UE 57 confessed.

"What?"

"The Chinese thing! If he was saying B gun, then he must've been saying Birch Gun!" UE 57 explained.

"How do you know that?" Nashorn questioned, suffering from hysteria.

"Because Birch Gun is the one who set the school on fire by using the Insta-Upgrade 3000! If those black tanks are looking for him, then it must be trouble!" UE 57 replied, squeaking at a very high level.

"No!" Nashorn sternly retorted, then sighed. It would take a lot of convincing to shake _this_ out of her. "You'll get hurt," Nashorn solemnly continued.

UE 57, without a word, spun around on the carpet, driving up the ramp, into her room. A few seconds after her departure, she could hear the "Ausführungs" being graded on their photo shoots. _Why does she even like that show?_ UE 57 thought. _Pah!_

Sitting on her bed, UE 57's tank brain suddenly spawned an idea out of nowhere. It was so stupid, it might actually work! She would jump out of the window, scale down the wall and then stealthily go to Birch Gun's house! Or she could just go out of the back door.

After thinking about it some more, she decided that her mother was right. She was going to get assaulted by those black tanks and maybe end up as a prisoner in a dungeon.

Aah!

UE 57 didn't like that thought. Instead of getting herself killed or becoming a captive, she decided to go to sleep. It was a better idea to not die.

* * *

Birch Gun didn't let any discord in the town stop him from going to Shellsland to buy some shells for himself. As he journeyed on the main road into the shopping district, he noticed that there was a crowd of tanks. One of them was standing on a ledge, above all of the others, armed only with a microphone.

"Citizens of Tankville!" the big tank announced, "we have come to your beautiful city to protest for the rights of the tanks in Tank Country!"

A few tanks in the crowd exchanged confused words.

"We ask of you to join our legion of protestors; to take over Tank Country and turn it into a free land – for the people and only for the people!"

Birch Gun was perplexed by this, but he was interested. He drove past Shellsland and entered the crowd of tanks listening to the speaker. A jet black B1, who was obviously female, because Birch Gun noticed her curvaceous hull…

There were a few bodyguards either side of the tall ledge, probably attempting to strike a sense of authority from the B1 into the people. They stood there dully; looking at nothing in particular.

"We were originally called the Tank Revolution, but our glorious leader got bored of that name, so we are now called the Black Barrels!" B1 announced proudly. "Tank Country will be shaped into a perfect land!"

One of the crowd members spoke up; it was an inquisitive looking T-34-85: "Why do you keep calling Vottel Tank Country? That's not its name—"

"Silence, Russian dog!" B1 retorted in a berserk frenzy. After she calmed down, she continued, "It is because "Vottel" is not a good name for a country! Dirty cars and planes live in our beautiful lands, and ships sail in our seas! If we drive them out, then we can create a land for tanks only!" The last part of her speech was increasingly stern.

"Planes, cars and ships have lived with us for centuries! You cannot just segregate them from society!" T-34-85 responded angrily. "My best friend is a plane!"

"No!" B1 yelled. She leant over and whispered a sentence to a jet black T49, who happened to be one of B1's bodyguards. He instantly sprang into action, dividing the crowd with his ramming force. When he came to the T-34-85, he blasted him into oblivion with his gun, which launched a guided anti-tank missile. This made the crowd clear rather quickly, in fear of being eviscerated by the T49. B1 stomped on the ground lividly; losing her audience made her go crazy. The only tank that stood in the crowd was Birch Gun, observing B1 intently. He swore that he had seen her before at school, or a place like that.

B1 stopped having a temper tantrum and looked up, seeing Birch Gun gaze at her. She remembered the tank from something – somewhere. She then remembered that the revolution was looking for a Birch Gun in Tankville that went to Tank Academy. It was lucky that Birch Gun was the only one of his kind in the school; let alone being the only SPG in the school.

"You!" B1 bellowed at Birch Gun. "Guards! Restrain him!"

Birch Gun was instantly met with the T49 and a Chi-Ri ramming into him, sandwiching him between them. Birch Gun yelled for help apprehensively, but no one came. The two tanks applied a clamp to his left track, immobilising him.

"Ha!" B1 laughed. "You didn't put up much of a fight, did you, Birch Gun?" She mockingly spoke with scorn and contempt.

Birch Gun went to shout again, but T49 plugged his gun with a tube, making him unable to make a sound. His engine was overheating because he was panicking. The hot air expelling out of his engine rose into the sky as he was aggressively pulled towards B1, who jumped down from the ledge, meeting Birch Gun mantlet to mantlet. This was rather awkward for him, but it wasn't for long, as B1 quickly made a decision.

"It is him!" B1 announced to the bodyguards. They nodded their guns in acknowledgement. "Hehehe… Birch Gun, we have a lot of fun things coming up for you," B1 sinisterly continued. "Come with me, mes gardes!"

Birch Gun's tracks scraped along the ground as he was forcefully "escorted" by the two bodyguards, following B1, who seemed to be going into Ruskie. As they exited Tankville, Birch Gun saw two policetanks holding down a jet black tank. B1 saw this, and ordered his bodyguards to intervene.

One of the policetanks was a T57 Heavy, who upon seeing the T49 and Chi-Ri, fired at them both. The T49 took a shot, almost being demolished by the single shell, returning with a guided missile. T57 Heavy didn't take chances though; he fired at the missile in mid-air, causing it to explode above the Chi-Ri, who was hopelessly firing at T57 Heavy's upper hull.

The other policetank was busy restraining the jet black tank, who was a small LTP. A child soldier. Did the "Black Barrels" introduce conscription, or did these crazy children want to fight? Birch Gun could imagine M5A1 Stuart or Hetzer doing something like that…

B1 suddenly realised that his bodyguards would lose this fight. She was the queen of the Black Barrels; this couldn't happen! She took Birch Gun by the gun and raced off at an astonishingly amazing speed that rivalled a snail. The Chi-Ri's life was ended soon after that as the T57 Heavy crushed him under his tracks, turning him into minced tank. Vottel had no mercy for these insurgents. The T49 found himself to be outnumbered now, as the LTP was securely locked into place with a clamp.

The other policetank was a T-54 Lightweight, who flew towards the T49 at a lightning fast speed. The T49 almost cried when the light tank rammed him; it felt like being hit by a sledgehammer. T49 went into a spin and fired a shot, but he couldn't manoeuvre the guided missile quickly enough, resulting in it crashing into the ground.

"Clearly, you do not want to surrender," T57 Heavy growled harshly, "so you shall die!" This statement was followed by a fatal shot from T57 Heavy. T49 barely felt it, as he was gone within seconds. Oil was leaking onto the street, filling the newly formed cracks with it.

T57 Heavy noticed before that there was a B1 and a hostage that he was pulling along. T57 Heavy followed their trails up into the street going into Ruskie. As he reloaded his magazine, B1 and Birch Gun were hiding in a shop to the left of the street. B1 used her intimidating skills to "persuade" the shopkeeper to let them hide in the shop. They were hiding in the storage room. B1 was munching on a bag of nuts she looted from a cardboard box.

"Now, Birch Gun – I will tell you why you are here," B1 began. She unplugged Birch Gun's barrel, subsequently guarding herself after in case Birch Gun attacked her. B1's hull gun trained on his own gun. "It is because you detonated the bomb set in the cafeteria in Tank Academy. Is this true?"

Birch Gun didn't reply. He was thinking.

"Reply, you numbskull!" B1 burst out, enraged. This tank was slow, in the brain and with his speed!

"Um!" Birch Gun spluttered. "Well, um, I turned on the machine, and it decided it didn't like me, so it picked me up and—"

"Slow down!" B1 ordered. "I want to know exactly how you activated the bomb, with every fine detail! If you're found out to be involved in this, then you'll be arrested! The Black Barrels are going to cover for you, because you're basically already a terrorist!"

"…Terrorist?" Birch Gun mumbled.

"Yes! I've heard about your exploits in the school! The way that you shattered that glass dome! You killed the M2 Medium! You've affected everyone in the school just by existing!"

At once, this speech reminded Birch Gun of Hetzer. He insisted that he was a terrorist and he needed to be exterminated.

"This is why you are here! I ask of you to become my accomplice; to become the king of the Black Barrels propaganda. You're so ditzy; you can create propaganda simply by standing still!"

"What?" Birch Gun didn't understand.

"Never mind! If you join us, I can sit there, looking pretty and giving out speeches while you make me look good!"

"By doing what?"

B1 sighed in exasperation. "By sitting there!" B1 decided to use a different technique for persuading him. "If you join us, then you'll be a soldier; you'll look so suave in front of all of the ladies." B1 spoke with a slightly seductive tone.

There was a moment going on, but Birch Gun absolutely shattered it by asking: "What does "suave" mean?"

B1 wanted to swear. She held her profanity back. "You know what! Just come with me." With that, B1 took Birch Gun by the gun again and led him off, outside of the storage room and into the shop.

B1 froze in her tracks when she saw T57 Heavy buying an iron bar; then she pulled Birch Gun backwards, trying to make as least noise as possible. T57 Heavy said thanks to the shopkeeper and left the shop.

"Birch Gun," B1 growled, diverting the SPG's attention to her. "I'm going to unclamp you so you can move freely. You are not to run away; you are to follow me. Do you understand?" B1 spoke as if she was talking to a tank whose English skills (or mental capacity) were not very good.

"Okay…," Birch Gun mumbled.

"Now, observe my gracefulness as I leave this shop innocently; you will do the same." B1 left the shop in a very feminine manner, looking as if she was an upper class lady from the Victorian era. Birch Gun did the same, but instead of being a graceful lady, he was a toddler who just learnt to stand up without planting their face into the floor.

B1 drove along the street, her jet black paintjob shining against the bright sun in the sky. It was a searing hot day for her. Not for Birch Gun though, who was trying his best to follow B1 and look as unsuspicious as possible. It was very hard for him, because he was a pretty terrible liar.

B1 made a gesture towards Birch Gun to usher him up to her. He sped up a bit, looking like a fat kid running a marathon. He was all jiggly, driven to this point by fear. He finally caught up with her, who pulled him closer to her. The distinct whiff of strong perfume caught in his cannon breech, clouding it up and making him feel woozy.

"Listen! We can't have anyone hearing what I'm saying. I have a plan to stop the T57 Heavy's advances on us. I will use a Molotov cocktail!" B1 whispered confidently.

"As if that would work…," Birch Gun muttered.

"It will work!" B1 snapped. "Just watch!" B1 took a box from her hull, opening it up and revealing a Molotov cocktail. "Since we can't penetrate his armour, I will take him out with this!"

"It won't destroy him, though…," Birch Gun replied.

"We just need to stop him; not destroy him. Now, follow me." B1 moved up, the Molotov cocktail held closely to her. Birch Gun reluctantly followed, wondering why he was doing this. He could just run when she wasn't looking, but that would end badly. Anyway, he recognised her from somewhere.

The duo came to a crossroads, where T57 Heavy was talking to T-54 Lightweight. B1 snickered evilly and whispered: "Good thing I have two Molotov cocktails." She pulled out the second one and threw it to Birch Gun, who didn't expect the throw. He ended up dropping it, making an audible sound. B1 wanted to yell at him for being incompetent, but that would give their positions away.

Birch Gun picked the Molotov cocktail up again as B1 made a battle cry and lobbed the bottle into the air. It was a perfect shot on T-54 Lightweight, who started screaming as soon as the petrol bomb hit him. T57 Heavy instantly turned towards the source of the Molotov cocktail and the noise; he instantly fired at B1, who drove back, avoiding the shot.

"Go on! Throw the thing!" B1 shouted, evading another shell. When Birch Gun stood there, shaking, B1 snatched the bottle from him, and threw it herself. The liquid inside the bottle splashed about as the bottle spun in the air, diving onto T57 Heavy's turret. The fire that instantly brewed up on him distracted him and started to lick at his equipment on his hull. T-54 Lightweight had been immobilised due to engine damage from the fire. Smoke had plagued his interior, making him feel woozy.

"Two perfect shots!" B1 yelled as she jumped back, dodging T57 Heavy's next inaccurate shot. "Let's get out of here!" B1 started driving forwards; easily avoiding T57 Heavy's last shot. Smoke was filling the air, mainly from the fire that was raging on the knocked out tanks. B1 was driving to Ghosst – which had the Black Barrels' main headquarters. Just as M5A1 Stuart had done, Birch Gun and B1 drove through the mossy tunnel, without a word being exchanged between one and another. B1 deemed it unnecessary to speak to him, as he would be doing some speaking later on…

They went past the gate and into the town. It was a dark, dreary town, surrounded by insurmountable hills. Literally the only way to enter the town was through Ruskie, which some of the insurgents were forming a plan to invade it.

Birch Gun and B1 entered the headquarters, where a jet black IS-2 was waiting.

"I have the wanted tank." B1 spoke proudly.

IS-2 drove forwards to take a better look at Birch Gun. After about thirty seconds of inspection, he came to a conclusion. "So you do. Come with me, Birch Gun. I'm sure Der Herr Meister Amwolf Adlersflügel will want to speak to you personally."

Birch Gun didn't even have time to think about that name before he was led into a lift. As it began to close, B1 said farewell to him, with a tinge of sadness in her voice. Even though that tank was stupid, B1 had taken a liking to him (and a bit of pity).

As the lift sprung into life, slowly creaking upwards, Birch Gun thought about his fate. He barely knew what was happening. He then decided that this was a bad idea, and he started mashing the lift buttons in an attempt to get it to go back down. The lift didn't care what he did as it stopped creaking and opened up when it was on the designated floor. Birch Gun pressed the button to go down, but it didn't do anything. He was stuck.

Birch Gun stood there for a few minutes, motionless. There was a chilling silence in the building, which partially froze him. Finally, he decided to drive forward out of the lift, which instantly sunk back into the lower parts of the building. The lift instantly came up again, making Birch Gun jump with excitement. He could finally get out of this wretched building! His dreams were blackened, stamped on and set on fire when the lift doors opened, revealing a rather frustrated B1.

She sighed. "Birch Gun, will I have to baby you through this? Come on." With that, B1 forcefully gripped Birch Gun's barrel and yanked him forwards, pulling him with him.

It hurt! "B1! Stop pulling my gun!" he yelled with grimace.

B1 stopped. "I have a name, you know." She seemed kind of sad.

"Well then, what is it?" Birch Gun asked, slightly aggravated.

"Amy," B1 replied. "Well, technically speaking, it's Amélie, but the revolution had it changed because it was "too French"".

_What a stupid reason!_ Birch Gun thought. He drove forward, stopping when B1 came to a door and knocked on it. He drove over to the door slowly, hearing it squeak as it slowly and sinisterly opened.

"Go in," Amy whispered. Birch Gun obeyed her reluctantly, entering the room. It was a giant boardroom, with a long, circular table that went along the room horizontally. There was a giant chair at the middle of the table, with a small chair on the other side. The room had white walls and was generally drab; it had no decoration. The back wall was a gigantic window, looking out on a road in Ghosst.

A Jagdpanzer E 100 was sitting on the colossal chair, expecting something. When Birch Gun entered the room, he instructed him to sit down. He had a gruff, powerful voice that scared Birch Gun – and that was with one sentence.

Birch Gun sat down on the chair, instantly feeling frozen and uncomfortable.

"Hello, Birch Gun. Ich heisse Amwolf Adlersflügel, but my Soldaten call me Der Herr Meister."

"Okay… why am I he—"

"Save your questions until the end," Amwolf interjected rather sternly. "I understand that Amy has tried to recruit you into the Black Barrels, but she, as expected, utterly failed." Amwolf sighed indignantly. "She seems to think that she's great, but she's not special just because we plucked her out of Tank Academy." Amwolf subtly chuckled. "Yes, Tank Academy. The school that is now becoming a site of charred rubble."

That's where he recognised her from! "Amy" was from Tank Academy, and she was in his class. They never spoke to each other, but they saw each other a lot. Her attitude was different – she was rather crazy now, and she was calm and girly before. The Black Barrels must have done something to her.

Birch Gun shuffled in his seat. This was making him rather uncomfortable; even more so now.

"If she doesn't improve her quality of work, then we will have to get rid of her. This is where you come in, Birch Gun. I want you to work alongside here – or instead of her." Amwolf continued sinisterly.

"Um… what exactly does she do?" Birch Gun asked, shaking slightly.

"She is the ambassador for the tanks at Tank Academy," Amwolf replied. "She is trying to get them all to join our revolution. That is why she held the speech at Tankville Square earlier. That was to show the civilians their impending doom unless they joined us, however."

Birch Gun was thinking of getting up from his seat and smashing through the window wall. He would probably die, but it would be better than being an "ambassador" and then being killed afterwards.

"So, Birch Gun? Will you join us or not?" Amwolf asked, expecting a "yes".

Birch Gun's tank brain was stirring around in him, thinking whether he should say yes or no. He decided to be vigilant and tell the truth, even if it resulted in his death. His life wasn't very good, anyway. "No," he firmly responded, managing to not stumble on his words.

"Hmm?" Amwolf muttered, set aback by Birch Gun's response. He assumed that every young tank would want to have an exciting life, ploughing through Tank Country, becoming rich and revered! It seemed that this stupidly studious tank just wanted to study!

"No!" Birch Gun shouted, letting his emotions get ahead of him. "No, no, no! I don't want to spend my life killing tanks and spreading false propaganda about how great your terrorist organisation is!" Birch Gun heaved, realising that he had just made a grave mistake as the powerful leader in front of him started shaking with anger.

"Well!" Amwolf yelled manically. "If studying is what you want to do, scum, then studying you shall do! You will be studying your prison cell's walls as you count down the days to your public execution!"

Birch Gun took this raving from Amwolf as an opportunity to escape; he hurled himself out of the room, smashing the door down with frenzied sheer force. Amy screamed in horror as he appeared, having listened to the conversation. She was breathing heavily, now knowing about her imminent death. She lobbed herself in Birch Gun's direction, who was mashing buttons on the lift. The door finally opened after a few seconds. Birch Gun drove into the lift, hearing a boom in the boardroom. And a click… and a siren.

Amy entered the lift as well; the two young tanks were both exhausted. They both felt a sense of security when the lift's doors shut.

As the box they were in went down, the two tanks stood in awkward silence. They both knew that they were eventually going to die as a result of this. The lift went to the ground floor as the siren blarted throughout the building. As the lift doors parted, Birch Gun found himself in front of the IS-2, pointing his high-calibre gun at him.

"Gun up," he ordered Birch Gun and Amy.

Birch Gun obeyed the command, but Amy didn't, instead vouching for resilience. IS-2's shout quickly made that idea wilt, and her gun drooped down in defeat.

"I'm honestly shocked that you didn't want to join us, Birch Gun." IS-2 spoke with indignant disappointment. "But I guess not all things work out… which is why we are going to imprison you!" IS-2 laughed. He instantly closed in on Birch Gun, pulling him out of the lift and throwing him into the wall.

Birch Gun spun twice before smashing into the wall, making him rather dazed. Amy was shocked with horror as she saw Birch Gun get towed by IS-2, taking him out of the building.

Amy needed to escape. She threw herself out of the lift, racing out of the building. She knew how to get back home. Her mum probably wouldn't be happy with her, but she couldn't have prevented it. As she raced along Ghosst's road, she looked back, seeing Birch Gun being taken to Ghosst Prison. It was fairly barren, as the Black Barrels preferred to kill rather than capture, so Birch Gun would be on his own.

Looking back also made her gain some useful information: a T2 Light was following her, firing its gun as it drove along. All of the twenty millimetre shells went straight off target, going into the ground or beyond Amy. The tank was catching up greatly however; it was almost at her position. The T2 Light's plan was to attach a tow cable onto her hull and stop her from moving.

The T2 Light was fixated on getting that tow cable onto her – he didn't think about anything else. His crazy campaign was quickly destroyed when he came up to Amy's rear, attempting to attach the tow cable, and Amy suddenly stopped, ramming into the T2 Light and disabling it. He spun round on his tracks, almost toppling over. His small cannon fired a few times, missing the French heavy tank, somehow. Her turret spun round and reciprocated with a shell of his own. It flew into the T2 Light's hull, making him yell. A few seconds later, Amy followed with another shell, detonating the T2 Light in a flash of various destructive colours.

Amy eventually made her way to the tunnel, ordering the tank to open the gate. After he did so, Amy rushed through the gate at a high speed; the fastest that she had ever been. Another tank had been set on her trail – this time, it was a M24 Chaffee, who leaped over the gate. This was an amazing stunt, but it was slightly tarnished by the landing. It ended up being a high-speed tumble, and then a roll, ending up with the Chaffee being on its side.

Amy eventually got out of the tunnel, coming out to Ruskie, where a policetank was searching for something – or someone.

This particular tank was a T21, and he had been tasked with capturing a jet black B1. His delight was rather crazy once he saw Amy driving along. He instantly sprang into action, brandishing his badge as fast as he drove. T20 was a new recruit, eager to impress his superiors.

"Stop! In the name of the law!" T21 yelled hysterically, almost dropping and driving over his badge. Amy wasn't fast enough to stop T21 from ramming into her, breaking his track. Amy somehow wasn't damaged, so she just casually drove off, ignoring the screaming T21. He quickly applied a repair kit to his track, partially fixing it. Every time he drove over the half-fixed track link, it made him bump upwards, slowing him down.

He caught up with Amy, who was weaving through the alleyways of Ruskie, trying to escape to Tankville. Amy had another head start when the wobbly light tank flew into a wall, stunning him. When he recovered from his dazed state, he spun round, trying to find Amy. She was almost in Tankville; she could see the square. T20 came up on her again, but she made a sudden stop, causing T20 to slam into her rear, do a spin, and end up upside-down. Amy took this as a chance to drive away.

T20 was defeated. He felt ill, his track links were breaking again, and he was getting a turretache. He flopped over onto his side, not willing to follow that tank anymore. Unfortunately for him, that was when the chief was driving along the road, whistling. He was a T32, who had a very gruff and bellowing voice. T20's turret almost fell off out of sheer force when the chief noticed him lying in the middle of the road, with the jet black tank driving along, and shouted at him.

Amy was free! She swerved round a building, being gone from sight. The T32 was enraged that one of his policetanks was beaten by a slow, fat and weak heavy tank.

Finally, Amy could lead a normal life again. She would just need a new paintjob, and she'd be as good as new. She totally wasn't brainwashed or anything…

* * *

Birch Gun was having a really bad day. Kidnapped, almost killed, kidnapped again… and now thrown into a prison. It was a damp, dark prison – with a single flickering lightbulb for light. Moss was growing in the sides of the prison. There were cracks in the floor, which weeds grew out of, wilting due to the lack of light. It was cold, and the entire cell emanated fear. Birch Gun feared for his life. He wasn't alone in the prison however; there was a dark tank in another cell, which was equally as murky as his cell. The tank didn't speak… it didn't even move.

Birch Gun could see the outline of the tank in the shaded light. It looked familiar and baleful. Could it be… oh no…

M5A1 Stuart! As soon as Birch Gun noticed her, he reversed into the wall, making a rather loud sound. The light tank jerked her turret towards Birch Gun, lost in thought. She instantly started moving, driving out of the cell and locking it. Birch Gun hadn't even noticed that the door was open. Now he knew that he'd get a storm of insults raining on him. As the shadowy tank moved towards his cell, he braced himself for it.

"Birch Gun, Birch Gun, Birch Gun!" M5A1 Stuart mocked him. "How did you end up in here?"

Birch Gun didn't answer.

"I already know! You really should have joined the Black Barrels; it's great! Ha!" M5A1 Stuart continued. "Here I am, helping to create the ideal world for everyone!"

Birch Gun's cannon breech still had a shell left in it – the tank that took him was obviously too stupid to check it. He could shoot M5A1 Stuart and knock her out, shoot the lock so the door would swing open, or he could keep the shell. He knew that he would be killed… he needed to escape. Using his only shell on M5A1 Stuart would be a bad idea, but using it on the door would alert M5A1 Stuart, who was currently bragging.

"This has been the best possible outcome for me – fighting for freedom! I've been awarded a medal for my great scouting! What can you say about yourself, artillery? Almost being boiled in a cauldron of oil? Ha ha!"

Birch Gun felt himself getting angry. He was locked up in this cube, with one of his most hated enemies taunting him. If he was the one in power, M5A1 Stuart would be being fed to a metal crusher. M5A1 Stuart would find any reason to shoot him, so he said nothing in response to her petty antagonising.

When M5A1 Stuart turned her back on Birch Gun, he decided it was now or never. He fired the shell, feeling the boom of the shell impact the door lock. It instantly fell off and Birch Gun rammed the door, making it swing open. M5A1 Stuart was the only prison guard, and it would look bad on her record if her only prisoner (a slow SPG) escaped. She threw herself at Birch Gun to blockade him, but he didn't care.

"You idiot! You'll never escape!" M5A1 Stuart shouted with unrest. She fired at Birch Gun, but the shell ended up impacting the ground. Birch Gun tried to push her aside, but she was a few tonnes heavier than he was. He drove back, accidentally avoiding another shot from M5A1 Stuart. She was beginning to get enraged now, and in a berserk fit of anger, she rushed towards Birch Gun, prepared to ram him. Birch Gun narrowly avoided the tank, and she ended up driving into the wall at an ascending speed. Birch Gun saw this as an opportunity to run off.

As he exited the prison, he noticed a plane going over the city, firing at a jet black tank. Two cannons were stuck on either side of the plane, and they both fired at the tank, going through it and destroying it. To make sure the tank was destroyed, the plane let a bomb free, which sailed into the tank's hull, making it explode into pieces. Birch Gun made sure to avoid the plane's gaze, just in case.

M5A1 Stuart was quick to come after him. As soon as the plane noticed her, he flew down, firing his dual cannons at her. She instantly froze as the cannon shots pounded the floor near her, causing the shots to miss. As he flew over her, a bomb dropped into the air. M5A1 Stuart almost broke her track at the speed she started driving, narrowly avoiding the bomb's explosion. Slightly shaken by the bomb, she was unable to hit Birch Gun, even if he was going at an absurdly slow speed compared to her.

This plane was a Junkers Ju 87 G-2, armed with two thirty-seven millimetre gun pods in addition to its regular armament. These gun pods lined up with M5A1 Stuart as the plane did a loop to right himself. M5A1 Stuart yelped as one of these gun pods fired an APCR shell that drilled into her engine deck. The other shots landed near her, but none of them hit her. She was considerably slowed down because of the pain that was circulating in her rear.

This allowed Birch Gun to escape to Ruskie, coming out to the sight of a war between two revolutionaries and a Jagdpanther II, who quickly dispatched of them with two shots; one for each. This Jagdpanther II was in the military, and he was trained to kill. Vottel was now bringing in the Vottel Army, who hadn't seen much action, apart from the recent Twenty-Year War…

Birch Gun had trouble getting back to his house; his brain was cursed by dark thoughts, forged by "Der Herr Meister". What a stupid name! It doesn't even make sense!

After Birch Gun eventually shook those thoughts out of him, he found Tankville Square, where a parade was going on, led by the Black Barrels. He had to tread carefully… otherwise he'd be captured again, and certainly killed. He went past the parade, going into Tankville Road. Behind him was Tank Academy, charred by the fire that had consumed the school. Builders were situated at the location, trying to rebuild it. Birch Gun eventually got to his house, knocking on the door.

It was dark now; his mum would definitely be worried. As the door opened, Birch Gun was pulled into the house.

A 59-16 was in the house, wrestling with Birch Gun. He was a shadowy tank, much like the tanks in the Black Barrels. Birch Gun would blow this tank's turret off with one shot if he could. But he couldn't, and that was why his turret was being smashed into the floor over and over again, until he blacked out. Crusader SP was watching the entire thing, with two broken tracks and a metal pole stuck in her gun.

Birch Gun used all of his might to get the 59-16 off him, but it did nothing but delay him for about a second. Birch Gun was almost finished…

Crusader SP loathed watching his own son being beat up in front of him. To alleviate this problem, she tried firing at the 59-16, ignoring the metal pole bunged in her gun. The shell pushed the pole out of the barrel, exploding as it did so. Crusader SP's barrel cracked and then fell into pieces, but the pole went like a missile, hitting 59-16 in the side of the turret and knocking him out. His turret spun round, eventually stopping.

As Birch Gun got up, his vision spinning around, he thought about M5A1 Stuart. She had gone too far. She was now an insurgent! Birch Gun would be the one to stop her. Somehow…

"Mum?" Birch Gun divided his attention to his mother, who was suffering with a broken gun and tracks. "W-What happened?"

"That 59-16 came in and started attacking me," Crusader SP gruffly replied. "He got the better of me. I think he was waiting for you to come back. Where were you?"

"I, uh, got mixed up in some trouble going to Shellsland," Birch Gun responded.

"Bullies?" Crusader SP asked.

"No. Something much worse." With that, Birch Gun explained what happened after the incident at Tankville Square.

Crusader SP was shocked. "You went through all of that in a single day?" She was lost for words.

"Yes," Birch Gun replied shakily. He was breaking down slightly, but he had to remain vigilant. "I'm going to go out there and fix a problem…" He swerved round and opened the door. "Also, I'll buy you a new gun." He laughed and exited the house, much to his mother's protests.

It was very dark now. As a result of this, Birch Gun had to switch on his headlights. The two beams of light illuminated the ground in front of him, but he couldn't see much else. Nobody can imagine his shock when he saw a helicopter flashing a ray of light down onto him. He could hear the rumbling and squeaking of moving tank tracks in front of him. Planes flew above him. Birch Gun then knew he was in a very bad situation, and it wasn't long before the first shell flew towards his way. It smashed into the house behind him, creating some rubble. These were high calibre shells!

As another team of militaristic tanks rolled in, trading shots with the opposition, Birch Gun realised that this wasn't a petty operation.

This was full-scale war.


	26. SPG Academy

Birch Gun dove for cover instantly, ending up behind a roadblock. He realised that the roadblock wasn't there before as a shell flew over him. A large explosion in the sky caused his turret to ring as the flash of bright colours illuminated him. He was at once very scared. He drove backwards, accidentally reversing into a tank. The tank stopped, looking at him.

It was a T32. He was shocked that a little SPG was roaming around in the midst of a war. "What are you doing here, kid?" he yelled over a gunshot. "This is a war zo-" he paused as a shell ricocheted off his turret front, bouncing into the ground near Birch Gun. "This is a war zone!"

Birch Gun suddenly got a burst of confidence in himself. He turned around, aimed and fired into the mob of jet black enemy tanks. The T32 jumped as the shot exited the gun, making a sound somewhat akin to violent farting. He stifled a laugh at the shot's sound, but he stopped laughing when the shot drilled into a speeding light tank, blowing it up.

"Whoa!" T32 exclaimed, another shot flying off his turret. "Nice shot, kid!" He was impressed. T32's barrel recoiled as a shot flew out of his gun, getting itself stuck in a jet black VK 45.02 (P) Ausf. A. The German tank responded with his own shot, hitting T32's gun and causing it to crack. He drove back, exposing his frontal armour, to which a hidden tank destroyer shot at, bursting straight through his armour and causing him to black out...

Birch Gun was instantly alerted, driving backwards as well, lined up with the roadblock. A small calibre shot punched through the roadblock, right next to Birch Gun. He became alerted, jumping into the air slightly. He returned to the ground with a clang.

A plane flew over Tankville, firing a burst of fire towards a jet black plane he was tailing. The plane was a female MiG-3 whom had downed fifty-two enemy planes during her career. She did a loop, expecting fire from the Hawker Hurricane who was trying to destroy her. He was too slow to get round and fire at her, so the MiG-3 ended up behind him, firing burst after burst into his tail. After the bullets pierced his tail, he began to go down, attempting to make a soft landing.

The MiG-3 wasn't having any of that. As the Hurricane's landing gear deployed, the MiG-3 shot his airframe so much, he could have been a (metal) Swiss cheese. Birch Gun watched the Hurricane turn into a comet of fire, eventually crashing into a house. He was horrified as the MiG-3 flew away, coming round and placing bursts of bullets into another plane. The plane burnt up and spun straight into the road, causing an explosion of fire to spread everywhere. Was there no mercy here?!

Birch Gun was sort of hardened for this sort of thing now. Life in Tank Academy had made him desensitised to this horror. Anyway, weren't tanks made for killing?

Another burst of confidence struck him, and he decided to fire another shot into nothing. As the shell left his barrel, he considered what he was doing.

Killing people.

A chill went through Birch Gun as he heard his shell explode on something. He saw a T37 light tank fly past him, with a spotlight shining everything in his path. Birch Gun was briefly flashed with light when he went past.

Birch Gun had decided that he had had enough of this. He drove away from the roadblock to get to his house (yes, in the middle of a war). He almost got to the door, but he felt a sudden stop in his movement. He looked to his tracks, and noticed that something was wrong; it was to do with the track that faced the battle. His rear wheel was in half from something.

He watched the direction where the shot came from (supposedly). A tank came out of the darkness. Sloped front, spaced armour on turret, forty-five millimetre gun... oh no...

It was M5A1 Stuart.

"Ha ha ha!" M5A1 Stuart laughed evilly. "We meet again, Birch Gun..."

"Oh, great." Birch Gun sighed. "It's you again."

"Yes, it is!" M5A1 Stuart squawked with intense excitement. "I am going to have so much fun slowly bringing pain to you!"

"Really?" Birch Gun asked in a stupid tone, then blew M5A1 Stuart's front open with a shell.

"AAH!" M5A1 Stuart screeched, having had a giant hole torn into her. She could only mutter meaningless words until she blacked out.

All of this death was really getting to Birch Gun's head. He had just possibly killed M5A1 Stuart, one of his nemeses. He didn't want to kill anyone, but he somehow managed to do it all of the time. Self defence! It was self defence. That was what his screwed up head was thinking.

The other piece of his rear wheel was in front of him, so he picked it up and placed it in the area where it should be. He attempted to drive on it; his campaign was successful, at least for a few seconds. Luckily for him, a few seconds was all he needed to enter the house. Crusader SP was looking out of the window, worried.

"Mum!" Birch Gun greeted his mother, who spun around in a heartbeat.

"I got shot," Birch Gun began as sombrely as possible. "My rear wheel. Can you fix it for me?"

"Sure! As long as you fix my gun," Crusader SP replied, laughing.

"It would probably end up being a few centimetres thicker than I intended it to be," Birch Gun joked. "And about a few centimetres longer."

They both laughed a bit, until an explosion shook their house. Crusader SP rushed to the window, seeing fragments of a tank flying about, and the remnants of an explosion. In her sight, a Chi-Ri was engaging a light tank, putting three shots into it. The Chi-Ri exploded a second after, blown up by something that Crusader SP couldn't see in the darkness.

A Type 5 Heavy emerged from the darkness (jet black, of course), with something on his turret that Crusader SP couldn't comprehend. Rocket tubes, one of which just fired a rocket into a tank and exploded it. What was this?

The Japanese hulk fired at another tank with his massive fourteen centimetre gun. The tank didn't even feel anything; it was dead in a second.

"Birch Gun! Look at this!" Crusader SP almost yelled, observing the titan.

Birch Gun came over, watching the window as well. He was shocked at what he saw; a big heavy tank driving over a burning tank repeatedly. It put out the flames, but it also turned the tank into a jagged, metal pancake. Gun included.

"I must defeat that tank!" Birch Gun shouted. "He's like a boss! In this game called Ferretboy, there are bosses. There was a giant walking enchilada that he had to destroy. It wore a hat, presumably made by Ferretboy's dead parents (or that's what the ending scene suggests). This guy was the final boss, and that's why he was so hard. He was a spicy enchilada who spat fireballs at Ferretboy. But eventually, he eats him, because that's what ferrets do."

Crusader SP didn't reply for a few seconds, thrown back by what she heard. She muttered, "Uhh... okay." She then wondered what the heck Birch Gun was playing when he came back from the shop, armed with a new game to play on his computer.

Birch Gun crusaded out of the door, forgetting about his broken wheel. The part of the rear wheel fell off just as he exited the house; away from safety.

The Type 5 Heavy noticed him at once, instantly firing a shell at Birch Gun. The shell flew past him, smashing violently into a brick wall behind him. His coaxial gun could not fire at him, as his hull was turned sideways. The Type 5 Heavy decided not to waste one of his precious rockets on a measly SPG, so he stuck to using his main gun.

Birch Gun only had one chance to not be annihilated, so he was patient whilst aiming. He took a deep breath as he aimed onto the Type 5 Heavy's rocket tubes. He didn't need to take much breath; as he didn't breathe whilst firing. He did it anyway...

Fire!

It didn't take long for Birch Gun's shell to reach the Japanese's rocket tube and enter it. A perfect shot. Birch Gun stood and watched, impressed with himself as the heavy tank turned into a cloud of red, white and orange. The power made his turret leap into the air, spinning a bit before landing on its gun and falling back onto the hull's side.

Birch Gun had just destroyed their army's biggest weapon. All of the insurgents were powered by that tank; it gave them morale, enthusiasm and will. Upon its destruction, the military began to push forward, easily ripping any of the insurgent tanks apart. That tank was one of the main propaganda tools for the Black Barrels; and it had been destroyed by a feeble SPG. Somehow, the military couldn't destroy it before; nor could the previous ten military groups.

Birch Gun looked over and noticed that M5A1 Stuart's corpse was gone. Spooky!

The Type 5 Heavy continued to release clouds of fire for some reason. A stream of fire went up from the tank's turret ring.

More military tanks were pouring past the Type 5 Heavy, past Tankville Road. Birch Gun watched them go by with their spotlights and advanced military gear.

After all of that, Birch Gun decided it was time for bed. He called his mum, who came out in an instant, towing him back into the house without a word.

"Good job, Birchie!" Crusader SP cheered, looking at the Type 5 Heavy's corpse through the window. "I'll fix you up, then you can go to bed."

Birch Gun was suffering from tiredness, which was appropriate considering his extremely long and stressful day. He almost died a few times, which was normal for him. He would have some pretty crazy dreams tonight!

"Sigh. Your dad was great at mechanics, but he was awful at cooking. I'm great at cooking, but I can't do anything with mechanics. I'll try and do it, anyway..."

"Good thing I bought some spare parts from Shellsland in preparation for another one of my near death experiences," Birch Gun replied.

Crusader SP laughed and then dragged Birch Gun into the kitchen, where she had fashioned her own repair area. It was covered in white cloth (pretty much black from the oil that was splattered onto it) and had a toolbox. This is where Birch Gun's father used to do his work.

Birch Gun was placed onto the cloth and the work began.

A bit of time passed, and Birch Gun was fixed. It helped that he fell asleep during the process, so he didn't have to wait.

* * *

It was 7 PM, and Birch Gun found himself awake in his bed. He instantly noticed that no evil spirits came to haunt his dreams last night. After he drove out of his bed and went to the window, he spotted a Russian plane flying over a few houses. He could tell because the plane had a star on it. Birch Gun instantly thought it was weird; planes don't normally fly over Tankville unless they are in a military operation...

He struck it off as nothing and went downstairs, greeting his mother.

"Birchie!" Crusader SP greeted him back. "Did I tell you that you are going to SPG Academy while Tank Academy is being repaired?"

"I don't think so...," Birch Gun replied. He instantly shuddered. SPG Academy brought back bad memories.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," Birch Gun spoke, driving over to the door and opening it.

It was T57, who was looking rather pretty in her camouflage. ...Was that make up? She was very shiny and dazzling. It seemed like she tried to look her best for Birch Gun. Anyway... why was she here?

"Hi!" T57 spoke first. "I am here to collect you to take you to SPG Academy, to make sure you don't get lost!"

Birch Gun was happy to see T57 in person, but he was also confused. "What the heck! I thought you were dead!"

"Nope!" T57 laughed jovially. "I'm too cool to die; don't you know that?"

"Well, ok...," Birch Gun muttered. "How did you know I'm going to SPG Academy?"

"Well, I sort of figured, since your school, uh, burned down...," T57 replied rather sombrely.

"I'll come with you," Birch Gun decided. He liked T57, as long as she didn't talk about shopping or a tank at her school whom she always said was "cute".

"Really?" T57 almost squealed. "Awesome! Let's go; we'll get detention if we're late!"

"Oh no...," Birch Gun murmured; that sentence had brought up bad memories of Leopard 1. Oh well. As Birch Gun revved up his engine, he was dragged forwards by T57 rather forcefully. She was a bit too excited.

"You're gonna love it here, Birch Gun!" T57 began. Birch Gun prepared himself for an onslaught of words. "I have so many friends there, and I'm sure you will too! I have Sturmy, Céline, M44 and SU-8! My best friend is Céline; I've been her friend since I was little!"

"And what model is Céline?" Birch Gun asked whilst being dragged along Tankville Road. There were a few holes in the road, but it was mostly traversable.

"She's an AMX 13 F3 AM!" T57 replied happily. "She's so awesome. She likes shopping, make up, boys (especially British ones) and Gun Direction! Just like me!"

"May I ask what "Gun Direction" is?"

"It's a boy band, silly! Oh, they're so dreamy." T57 almost swooned.

Birch Gun sighed under his breath and continued on with the conversation. "Do you have posters of them?"

"Of course! I'm a hardcore fan, you know." T57 tutted indignantly.

"Let me guess - you've tried to kiss the posters with the boys' turret fronts on them?"

"Um... uh... well... guess what!" T57 changed the subject rapidly. "Gun Direction announced they were splitting up for a year a while ago!"

Birch Gun snickered a bit. He felt bad for doing so, but T57 didn't seem to notice.

"I had to buy a tissue box from the shop," T57 replied wistfully. "It was a hour of torture, you know... I never want to go through that again..." T57 looked like as if she was about to cry.

"There, there," Birch Gun responded. "I'm sure they'll get back together again..."

"Really?!" T57 squealed with happiness. Her next action was in poor judgement (at least to Birch Gun) as she leaped onto him, hugging him. He didn't have time to react before T57 was hugging him rather lovingly; at least, that's what it seemed like.

"Um...," Birch Gun muttered. T57 looked happy, so he just decided to accept it.

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said, Birch Gun!" T57 almost screamed.

Birch Gun was sure that he had said nicer things (and more important things) in his life, but he didn't protest. But standing out in the middle of the road being hugged looked weird; nor did it help Birch Gun get to school. He decided to break away from the hug and continue on his journey.

T57 trailed him, but soon she was in front again, beginning to talk about more purposeless things. After what seemed like an eternity, Birch Gun and his American friend arrived at SPG Academy. It looked just as grand as it did before on that fateful day. Birch Gun could see tanks talking in the school grounds. T57 grabbed him by the gun and started dragging him forward again.

"I wasn't meant to come into school with make up, but I just couldn't not wear it. I feel insecure without it; like I'm ugly or something. T92 will make me wash it off again if he sees me, but it would be a worthwhile sacrifice."

Birch Gun decided to be nice. "You don't look ugly without make up on. Don't be silly."

"Have you ever actually seen me without make up on?" T57 countered.

"Um. Yeah."

"Anyway, I was extremely happy that you said that to me, Birch Gun," T57 returned. "If Gun Direction do not get back together, I shall personally hold you responsible."

"Oh dear," Birch Gun replied with a slight tint of sarcasm. "And what would this entail?"

"More hugs, of course," T57 growled playfully (to which Birch Gun almost died inside), "but they will be really squeezy, so your innards will pop out."

"Thanks for that," Birch Gun groaned. He continued on with T57, eventually coming up to SPG Academy.

"Well, this is where the fun begins." T57 nodded her gun to one of her friends, who drove over to the Brit and American.

It was a SU-8. Birch Gun assumed that this was the tank that T57 was talking about earlier.

"So, this is the танк you've been talking about for, I don't know, ages?"

"Shut up, SU-8! And yes, this is the "танк"," T57 whispered, intending to shush SU-8.

"Well, I welcome you with open tracks, Birch Gun," SU-8 began. She went up close to Birch Gun and whispered: "Be aware of that tank, Birch Gun. She's rather crazy." She followed this with a hearty laugh.

"I already know that," Birch Gun replied.

T57 heard this part of the conversation, and chimed in with her disapproval. A few minutes later, after some more talking, the trio entered the academy.

Birch Gun instantly noticed upon his entrance that the academy was so much more grand than Tank Academy (although he could already tell just by looking at the front of SPG Academy), which was rather run down. He had heard great tales of Tank Academy being one of the best and most prestigious schools in the entire country...

"We need to go to our classroom. It's on the second floor, and is the Accuracy classroom," T57 explained. "Just follow us." T57 and SU-8 immediately set off, and Birch Gun followed after them.

"You've already been talked about a lot here, Birch Gun." SU-8 followed this statement with a round of awkward, uncontrived giggling.

"Really?" Birch Gun asked.

"Y-Yeah. Rumour's been going around that you're a terrorist and you're coming here to blow this school up too."

"Oh, great," Birch Gun sighed indignantly.

"Y-You're not actually a terrorist, are you?" SU-8 asked sheepishly, just to make sure.

"No! Of course not!" Birch Gun snapped. "Do I look like a terrorist to you?!"

"Um...," SU-8 muttered. She thought about her next reply rather carefully; she didn't want Birch Gun to blow her up out of anger. "Uhh... no?"

"Well, there you go!" Birch Gun responded with a tinge of held back anger.

"Now, now!" T57 yelled slightly. "Let's get something straight: Birch Gun is not a terrorist. If he was a terrorist, then I would most likely be dead."

There was no further speech. As the tanks got onto the second floor, Birch Gun felt uneasiness around him. The second floor. Bad memories from Tank Academy were returning.

"I bet Sturmy will be the first one in the class again," SU-8 snorted.

"Naturally," T57 replied in an eloquent matter. "I mean, when you speak like _this_, is it not natural to get into school first?" As soon as T57 said this, the two girls burst into laughter, leaving the remaining SPG confused.

Finally, they arrived at the classroom. "It's here." T57 pointed out the classroom's door out to Birch Gun, who happened to be looking in the other direction. This was good for him as at that moment, a tank arrived at the second floor, looking for something. When the tank saw Birch Gun, he raced towards him, staring at him gun to gun, presumably to intimidate him.

T57 and SU-8 watched in horror as they saw Hummel, the academy's main "peacekeeper", also known as the little tank bullier.

"Yo," Hummel spat, "are you Birch Gun, innit?"

"Yes. Who are you?" Birch Gun asked, sounding about a million times less chavvy with his standard British accent.

"We 'eard you's a terrorist," Hummel began, "an' we dun like terrorists."

"Well, I'm not a terrorist. Go away," Birch Gun responded dismissively, shunning the German SPG.

"Go away? No one tells me to go away, innit; I'll leave yer scrawny little gun shield in pieces, you half fried shrimp," Hummel growled with increasing fury.

Birch Gun spotted a clock randomly placed on the wall; it was 9:10 AM. Almost time for class. "Will you go now so I can go learn?"

"Yeh, screw off, mate! Hah! I flippin' worked me way up to the main peacekeeper, an' you's telling ME not to keep the peace? I flipping live to destroy scummy terrorists like ye. Innit?"

"Stop it, Birch Gun!" T57 whispered apprehensively. "You don't know who you're messing with!"

Birch Gun turned around to open the door and enter the classroom, leaving the two girls quaking in their tracks.

"No!" Hummel shouted crazily. "You's not gettin' away like that, shrimpboy!" Hummel leaped forward, dividing the two girls and yanking Birch Gun backwards, slowly pulling him in the opposite direction which he had intended to go in. Soon, he was in the exact same position as he was before; except he was showing his rear off to Hummel. Unintentionally, of course.

"I don' like yer tone," Hummel snarled, imitating Birch Gun's British accent. It was a bad mockery, but it got the point across. "I also don' like shrimps talkin' to me like that an' showing me their ugly rears." Hummel grabbed Birch Gun again, pulling him further and further away from the two other SPGs, who were currently in the process of being frozen like cavemen who decided to go skiing in a blizzard.

Hummel had his sights placed on a small unused room. He opened the lock with his expertly trained gun barrel, which had had a lot of experience with breaking into things. After the lock was prized open and the door creaked open, revealing a ray of light into the otherwise dismal room, Birch Gun was tossed into the shady box (that happened to be a room) like a breakdancing elephant trying to look cool on a extremely weak cliff.

The door shut, and Birch Gun was exposed to nothing. The room was pitch black; the windows were forced shut with something that Birch Gun couldn't see (because it was pitch black). He sat in there, sulking about his inevitable death at the hands of a fat German SPG. Well, actually, it's at the hands of an enclosed box pretending to be a room, but the SPG threw him in there.

After that fiasco, Hummel set off, acting as if he "didn't do nuffing". T57 and SU-8 thawed after a few minutes. They had two choices: leave Birch Gun and subtly think about how they could have prevented his desolate death and arrive in the class late, get slapped with a detention for being a few minutes out of the specified timeframe and then continue with their woeful lives.

Or they could go in there and rescue Birch Gun from the room, possibly putting themselves at the threat of Hummel, whom they still had a few years of school time (and torture) with. It would also result in a detention, probably. What a lose lose situation!

"What the heck are we going to do?!" T57 squealed.

SU-8 was deep in thought again. Would she risk death saving a tank whom she did not even know, or would she just go into the class, avoiding the chance of death?

"You can do it yourself. I'm going in." SU-8 turned around and entered the classroom as subtly as possible.

"Oh - thanks!" T57 roared lividly. She wiped the oily sweat off her gun and rushed forward, ramming the door with as much might as possible. The attempt was so feeble, she ended up ricocheting off the door herself. After doing a spin in the air and almost ending upside down on the floor, she tried a different strategy.

Perhaps shooting the door would work - but the classes would hear. Oh well... T57 would do it for Birch Gun.

T57 lined herself up with the door perfectly, ready to take the shot. This was an unusual thing for her; taking shots. Even though she was a tank. Life made no sense to her.

Anyway...

She was taking too much time. But she couldn't bring herself to fire. In these few seconds that her brain was rebelling against her, it reminded her of a video in which a tank with a nice beard was shouting at the camera: "JUST DO IT!". It compelled her to defeat this treacherous door and save her fair maiden... wait, Birch Gun isn't a female. T57 then went into a deep state of thinking about the masculine equivalent of the word "maiden".

Oh, dang it! Just fire!

BOOM!

As soon as T57 took the shot, she regretted it. The shot was much louder than she anticipated, and she could already hear the confusion of the tanks in the classrooms. Firing in the school was a serious offence (unlike in Tank Academy, where it seemed to be like a right). It resulted in a suspension.

But to T57's shock, the door actually didn't eat the shot; it decided to succumb to it, causing the shell to become a hole in the door. Light seeped into the room, and T57 could see Birch Gun, who looked like he made an oil puddle on the floor. Unbeknownst to T57 however, Birch Gun hadn't done that. As soon as Birch Gun realised that there was a hole in the door, he rushed at it like a mad hyena spotting a mutilated carcass in the distance.

Birch Gun burst through the door with high power; power that even he himself did not have. He almost did a flip in the air, almost resulting in a casualty again. As he landed on his tracks, he saw T57, who was shaking rather like how you'd think a person who had been tortured for a couple of hours would look like.

"T-T-T...T57?" Birch Gun muttered, surprised.

"Yeah!" T57 replied, expecting fanfare from the bewildered British SPG.

"You saved me!" Birch Gun almost went crazy from excitement. This was short lived however, for an imposing American SPG appeared behind T57, almost sending Birch Gun into a panic attack.

"What the heck are you doing here, whelp?" It was the T92! Yes, that T92!

"Um... um... uh...," Birch Gun stuttered helplessly.

T92 turned a little, spotting the sizeable hole in the door. He almost turned red as she shook uncontrollably with berserk fury. "AND WHAT... IS... THAT... HOLE?!"

Birch Gun decided it was better to escape now, rather than hanging around to see T92 blow his top and then chase him. He set off, and T57 followed after him.

"YOU VANDAL!" T92 roared, unhinged. He raced forward, completely ignoring T57, who was in the process of hiding behind some lockers.

Birch Gun was still going for it, increasing in stress with every second. Luckily for him, T92 was too sluggish to catch him. After T92 disappeared out of sight, T57 emerged from her hiding spot. She followed after T92's tracks.

Birch Gun had found his own place of concealment after he threw himself into a skip at the back of the school, where ivy had enslaved the entire area. The skip's interior might as well have been a green, leafy bed; it felt like that to Birch Gun, and it tickled.

T92 trailed the SPG, coming up to the bright yellow skip. He looked around for a couple of seconds, then fired in anger and went away. The resulting ringing in Birch Gun's turret could have been enough to make it start spinning, unhinge itself and then fly away like a helicopter. That's what it felt like it was doing for Birch Gun.

After T92 disappeared, T57 appeared, looking for Birch Gun in the jungle. "Birch Gun!" she called, her voice cracking, causing it to turn into a high pitched screech. "Birch Gun!"

Birch Gun heard her calling, and attempted to escape the skip. He grunted as his tracks begun to come over the top of the skip. After a minute of trying, Birch Gun ended up on the floor, on his side. This was when T57 noticed him.

"A little help, please?" Birch Gun muttered, attempting to swing back onto his two tracks.

"Of course!" T57 replied in a playful, singsong voice. She went round to Birch Gun's hull roof, pushing lightly on his gun shield. Birch Gun's hull didn't give way; it appeared to be going the opposite way, which didn't make any logical sense.

"What are you doing?" Birch Gun growled, a few seconds before he went upside down at the hands of T57.

"Um - oops!" T57 muttered in a sheepish, significantly less playful and singsong voice.

"Oh, dang it!" Birch Gun yelled. "Just get me somebody who can fix this!"

"No! I shall rescue you, my fair ma- um, sir!"

"Excuse me?" Birch Gun asked as T57 tried to push him upright with all of her might. After a bit of strength, Birch Gun finally began to move.

"Almost there!" T57 grunted; she was under a lot of pressure. Birch Gun finally went on his two tracks - but then he fell over on the other side.

"Ugh!" Birch Gun shouted, exasperated. He put just about enough weight on his other side to right himself.

"Yes!" T57 cheered. Everything went quiet for a few seconds, except from Birch Gun's audible heaving, caused by the effort needed to deal with T57 and to right himself...

"Now what?" Birch Gun muttered to T57. "I'm not staying in this school."

"What?" T57 asked, dumbfounded. "Why ever not?" Sadness overcame her as she heard this; and it was hard to hide. Thankfully, Birch Gun was too naïve (or unintelligent) to catch onto this.

"Because that Hummel will try and attack me again. Also, I'm known as a terrorist here. Everyone will be out to get me!"

"But you're not a terrorist," T57 softly replied, trying to work her charm inbetween the words.

Unfortunately, Birch Gun did not catch onto this either. His perception appeared to be selective. "I know I'm not a terrorist, but it appears everyone thinks I am."

"I can convince them that you are in fact not a terrorist with my super sweet persuasion skills," T57 reassured Birch Gun, who didn't seem so convinced.

"Well, okay...," Birch Gun responded, purely only to please T57, who took Birch Gun by his track and began to pull him forwards, away from the skip.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Birch Gun asked.

"I'm getting you out of here, silly. What else?"

"You're abducting me?"

"What?" T57 stopped after hearing that. She made a subtle laugh and continued on, saying: "Ha! You're so funny, Birch Gun."

_Am I? _Birch Gun thought. Was he even trying to be funny...?

As T57 and Birch Gun went around the rear of the school, a different tank was going in the same direction.

It was a little blue tank, racing in the leafy undergrowth. Mud was accumulating on the tank's hull, ruining the look of the tank.

T57 saw the blue dot coming ahead. Likely everyone had heard about the incident with Hummel now, and she was worried if this tank had come to deliver intrigue to her potential pursuers on her whereabouts.

"All right; I think I've had enough of being towed," Birch Gun muttered. T57 let go almost immediately; it was unknown to her why Birch Gun wanted to stop. She thought he liked it!

"Wait..." Birch Gun stopped, looking in the distance. She was covered with a blue cardboard tube, but Birch Gun was sure that the blue tank driving over to him and T57 was UE 57. He revved up his engine, blasting forward, leaving T57 with a gunful of leaves. From the range she was at, she saw UE 57 greet Birch Gun with undying happiness, then accidentally crumpling her "gun" on Birch Gun's turret.

"My disguise!" UE 57 squeaked unhappily, drooping her gun to the ground, letting the crumpled cardboard tube slide off her gun, onto the leaves that covered the dirt.

Birch Gun looked down at the tube that served as her disguise, and dismissed it with a laugh. "You realise that would never work, right?"

UE 57 seemed slightly offended. "Why not? It's worked so far." UE 57 picked the "gun" up, un-crumpling it and sticking it back on her gun. It had a little bit of mud on it, but it still looked good as new.

"Well, if you insist...," Birch Gun replied. He doubted the tube's effectiveness, but UE 57 seemed happy, so he decided to roll along with it.

T57 appeared behind Birch Gun, having driven up to the two tanks. "Boo!" she snapped, almost angrily.

As per usual, Birch Gun was spooked like a horse that suffered from anxiety and particularly hated ghosts and the word "boo". He barely made a sound, apart from the excruciatingly shrill and prepubescent sounding squeal that he made. Its pitch was higher than UE 57 when she was excited.

The extremely high number of decibels in said squeal shook UE 57's armour, perhaps causing brain trauma. UE 57's hull shook for a few seconds, as if she was in the middle of experiencing a seizure. When her hull stopped shaking and her vision returned to normal, she could see T57 next to Birch Gun.

When she recovered, she murmured: "Birch Gun, that could have possibly been the most effeminate squeal anyone has ever heard," UE 57 sighed. She turned to T57, who looked like she was in a rather bad mood. "I'm UE 57. Nice to meet you."

"I'm T57...," she huffed in reply to UE 57. "Nice to meet you too," she continued, but this obviously wasn't the case for her.

UE 57 could notice the tension that already started in their meet; it was obvious.

"Why are you here?" T57 asked with hostility.

"I was doing some, uh, "exploring"," UE 57 replied with indifference in her voice. She had no idea why this tank she had just met was speaking with such venom to her.

"What actually happened?" Birch Gun asked with significantly less hostility than T57. Well, he had none at all.

"All right; I'll tell you the full story." UE 57 paused for a second, trying to replay the events in her mind. "It started with me - with my cardboard gun, going to my first class after sneaking in, like a ninja, of course!" She made a ninja-like gesture, then went back to speaking. "But my ninja skills failed me! A Hummel - he was a mighty one - ended coming up to me and started to say horrible things to me! He accused my gun of being fake (which it _obviously _wasn't), and broke the tape on it. That's why it fell off me earlier."

"A Hummel?" Birch Gun interrupted. "Did he speak like a simian (or at least how you'd expect a simian to speak)?"

"I think so," UE 57 replied, "like a chav simian."

"Yes!" Birch Gun almost shouted. "A chav. I saw this tank that you're describing, and he ended up locking me in a pitch black room. Until T57 here saved me."

"Uh-uh!" T57 acted as if she had just been awarded a medal, when in reality she just blew a door open; a door that she probably could have opened herself. Birch Gun was too scared (and incompetent) to think of blowing the door open himself; he did bring shells to school, even though you weren't supposed to.

"Thank you for saving my friend!" UE 57 chirped. "Now, I think I should continue my story."

As UE 57 began to speak again, T57 couldn't help but think that UE 57's response was wrong. Shouldn't she be angry, or at least jealous?

"I began to run from this tank, but he did not stop. He hastened his chase, almost coming onto my rear, but I used my ninja skills (insert ninja movements here) to evade his attack! I swerved into a corner, which ended coming out to a door. I smashed through the door... rather literally," UE 57 continued with sheepishness in her voice.

"I saw that door," Birch Gun responded. "I, um, kinda smashed through it too. Now it's a bit of debris."

"The Hummel ended up smashing into a wall and knocking himself out. Judging by observation of that tank's intelligence, I don't think it was a spur of the moment. Perhaps behaving like a rhinoceros wasn't the greatest idea for him."

"I agree," Birch Gun replied. "Is that how you came out here?"

"Yeah," UE 57 replied. "I took the opportunity to run, and here I am. I think it worked!"

T57 was being particularly observant of the space beyond UE 57; she did not care at all what UE 57 had to say. Just as UE 57 finished speaking, T57 noticed a grey blob approaching UE 57's rear. She instantly realised that the "blob" was Hummel, and that he had found UE 57 again. She decided whether to alert her or to let her suffer...

She chose the former option, despite her heart telling her to not to. "Hummel!" she shouted with pure venom.

UE 57 instantly turned around, seeing the Hummel SPG for the second time. Hummel said nothing; he instead went for the direct diplomatic approach of cold blooded killing. The shell left his barrel almost instantly after his name was called by T57. As the shot was unaimed, it exploded on the ground near UE 57, caking her with mud.

"Hey!" UE 57 screamed. "I don't want any trouble!"

"Well, guess what, shrimp! I dun care, and neither will you, because you wills be dead. Ha!" Hummel chuckled evilly, preparing another shell to fire.

Birch Gun had been acting idle up to this point; he got into an intricate daydream about a picture of a very lewd tank he had accidentally come across whilst searching for Hellcat memes on Tankgle. As soon as he saw this threat to his friend, he sprung into action, loading a shell into his breech.

As he readied himself, T57 fired, throwing him completely off track and making him fire by accident. The shell that left his barrel hit a tree, causing it to break and fall. This tree was next to Hummel, and it ended up smashing down onto him. Just as this happened, Hummel fired, but the impact of the tree caused his aim to screw up. The shell flew into space, never to be seen again.

"Ha!" UE 57 yelled over to Hummel, who was dislodging himself from the tree. UE 57 rushed forward, intent on flanking Hummel, safe from harm. She made her way around the discombobulated Hummel, who was swearing with intense hatred. UE 57 heard the sound of a shell being loaded.

Hummel's tracks turned, trying to make his way around to UE 57, who was running circles around him, almost literally. T57 loaded another shell, aiming in on Hummel. Her inexperience with combat left her shaking and almost senseless, decreasing her accuracy by a huge amount. The next shell she fired ended up flying straight over Hummel, crashing right by UE 57, blowing her track off.

UE 57 could not deal with the sharp pain that T57 had just accidentally delivered to her, breaking down into tears. Hummel took this as an opportunity to swivel round and deliver more pain to the crying tank.

Birch Gun witnessed T57's act of blowing UE 57's track open, and rebuked at her for doing so. He decided that he had to stop Hummel himself, because UE 57 was disabled and T57 couldn't hit a target even if she was a metre away from it. Even though Birch Gun didn't like to respond with violence, he was a rather good shot, which came as a surprise to him.

As his gun slowly moved upwards to get the arc, T57 could see Hummel ramming into UE 57 over and over, almost crushing her. She couldn't do anything unless she wanted Birch Gun to tell her off again, so she stayed put, watching Hummel beat the little tank destroyer into a state of near death.

Birch Gun had determined that now was the perfect time to strike, so he let the shell go. It almost went in slow motion for Birch Gun as he anticipated the shot to hit; as he sought to save his friend.

Hummel was cackling with malice. "Nobody runs from me! I call this reformation!" he snarled as he drove straight over UE 57, crushing her with his weight. He could slowly feel her hull give in - that sweet, sweet feeling. It was like ecstasy and... oh, what's this?

Hummel barely had time to react before Birch Gun's shell hit him. It hit him like a train hitting a hare with osteoporosis.

As soon as Birch Gun saw he had scored the hit on the now unconscious Hummel, he loaded another shell, just in case. He wanted to make sure...

Bang! Boom!

Okay, now Birch Gun was _definitely _sure Hummel was knocked out. He could tell by the clouds of dark grey smoke exhaling out from his hull. Feeling extremely proud of himself, Birch Gun made himself over to Hummel and UE 57, who was now bawling. T57 followed him, feeling slightly guilty for having possibly caused UE 57's death.

Birch Gun pushed Hummel aside, powered by adrenaline, which itself was fuelled by the power of friendship. As soon as the German SPG was off UE 57, Birch Gun picked up UE 57 and sat her down on the marshy ground. She was battered; there were dents everywhere on her hull and gun shield.

Birch Gun sat in front of UE 57, who was about as stable as a bridge made out of polystyrene now. "Look, it's okay. Birch Gun is here."

"B-B-Birch Gun...," UE 57 murmured, shuddering.

"Yeah?" Birch Gun asked. It was at this point that Birch Gun realised that this was a significant derivation from his usual character - him being all empathetic. He could be empathetic in this situation because Birch Gun had had several near death experiences himself before.

"I want to go h-home..."

"Let me take your gun," Birch Gun suggested, to which UE complied. He took UE 57 by the gun and swerved over to T57, who was looking rather angry indeed. "UE 57 needs some, uh, help getting back home. I don't think she'll be able to get home on her own."

"Missing school? I can't do that!" T57 replied, almost offended.

"I can. Anyway, everyone's out to kill me...," Birch Gun responded, almost back to his own self: crestfallen and a defeatist.

T57 didn't have a reply for that, so she didn't respond. Birch Gun and UE 57 set off; Birch Gun was pretty much dragging the half conscious tank along the muddy ground.

When the two tanks left, T57 was left by herself. Her first thought was: _I wish I was hurt like that..._


	27. The Rampage Begins

Halloween was on the horizon, but nobody cared. Except for Ram II, who was painting himself a shiny orange. As he finished his coat, he put a little pumpkin on his side.

Perfect!

The paint was wet (obviously), so Ram II drove over to his "drying spot". Ram II often painted himself nice colours for seasonal events, which was what he was doing.

He was aware of a terrorist related crisis going on right outside his house in Ruskie, but he didn't care. His masterpiece was completed: himself.

He was proud! Nobody else in the COUNTRY could do this! Well, nobody else in the country would do it...

This drying spot was in his room, where all of his amazing artwork went. He painted his walls, his floor... even his computer. He was obsessed with art! Unfortunately, his siblings were also on this floor, and Ram II was under frequent attack from his older sister M4 Sherman, who was worried about him, his ambiguous sexuality, and the fact that she had a tank who liked to paint himself bright, feminine colours.

Just as Ram II was engaging meditation in his drying spot, M4 Sherman busted into the room, instantly seeing the bright orange tank resting.

"Oh, dang it, M4 Sherman!" Ram II growled in unrest. "You interrupted my meditation – again! What do you want?"

With concern, M4 Sherman replied: "What the hell is this? Why are you orange?"

"It's for Halloween, you big galoot!" Ram II retorted angrily, tired of M4 Sherman's constant nagging.

M4 Sherman paused for a few seconds, considering what the best answer to this conundrum was. "I've never seen anything like it...," she sighed under her breath. "Do you know what is going on around you?"

"Of course," Ram II replied indifferently. "Who doesn't know?"

"Well, do you think painting yourself in a bright metallic orange is the best idea, considering the situation? You'll stick out like a sore thumb – and you will be more than sore when the black tanks catch you!"

"I have a gun!" Ram II objected. "It will fend them off."

"In order for that to work, you'll need a gun that's worth a damn," M4 Sherman responded.

"Look, will you go away now so I can finish my masterpiece?"

"Fine...," M4 Sherman sighed. "Just don't ask me for help if some flying tank comes out of nowhere and kidnaps you."

"Just go!" Ram II shouted, to which M4 Sherman withdrew herself and slammed the door rather hard. As the rambunctious tank left, Ram II went back to his drying spot, where he engaged in meditation.

As Zen was clouding him, another thing started clouding the room. A smoke grenade was thrown into Ram II's open window, causing the room to become grey. As a grappling hook latched onto the paint-splattered floor, Ram II had his view ports closed, meditating. His meditation was working, but the smoke wasn't working for his paint.

Ram II heard a sound come from somewhere in the room. He assumed it was M4 Sherman creeping into his room again, or M6, who always wanted to eat from his secret sweet stash. "M4 – if that's you... just go away, please!" he yelled.

The invading tank didn't know who M4 Sherman was, nor did he care. His mission was to breach the house and kidnap any tank who would be useful enough to the Black Barrels. He had found a tank, but he sounded too effeminate for the super strong macho Black Barrels. Whatever!

Ram II only opened his view ports when he felt a significant disturbance in his meditation in the form of being thrown to the ground and having his track broken in front of his view ports.

"You're joining us now, chump!" the kidnapper growled, narrowly avoiding a shot from Ram II, who started to cry.

"No! Wha- what are you doing?!" Ram II spluttered in a frenzy. His view ports were only able to open for a few seconds because of the smoke, which stung for some reason. He had no idea who this invader was and why he had thrown a smoke grenade into his bedroom, but he didn't feel like asking.

"Welcome to the Black Barrels, son!" the tank announced to Ram II as he fitted a parachute on his engine deck. "We're going to take you to be converted..."

Ram II attempted to throw this tank off him, but he couldn't, primarily because he was on his side. Also, he was about as weak as a newborn who had no bones. A bag of skin and muscles, essentially.

Only did he see the tank for the first as the smoke cleared and he opened his view ports. He was a jet black 59-16. Ram II swore he had seen him before somewhere...

"Ha!" the 59-16 teased. "You have been defeated! What is this orange camouflage you've got? We'll have to paint that over…"

"No! No!" Ram II protested crazily. "I spent hours on i-it!"

"And it looks terrible," 59-16 replied. He felt good about himself for saying that. "Now, I think it's time for you to go to sleep!"

"What!" Ram II yelled, just seconds before 59-16 grabbed a bludgeon and clobbered Ram II over the turret with intense might.

Another tank had been woken up by this event; it was M6, who was trying to have an early night's sleep. She groggily got off her bed and opened the door, entering Ram II's room. What she saw right then was not a pretty sight: a light tank holding a big heavy stick over Ram II's turret, who seemed to be knocked out.

It didn't take long for M6 to rev up her engine, sending her hurtling towards 59-16, who quickly grabbed Ram II and rolled off. M6 ended up ramming Ram II's computer, causing it to become a metal pancake. "Oh, damn it!" she exclaimed as 59-16 jumped out of the window with Ram II. Leaving the crushed computer, M6 went to the window, where Ram II was slowly descending onto the ground with 59-16 hanging onto his broken track.

M6 didn't often miss, but she didn't exactly cement that claim with the terrible shot she intended for 59-16 that ended up going into the ground, beheading some blades of grass. As the shot created dirty debris to fly onto 59-16, he threw himself off Ram II as he landed safely onto the ground, quickly firing back at M6.

M6's turret was impacted, but 59-16's armour piercing round was not enough to go through her thick armour, so it harmlessly bounced off.

Now it was M6's turn.

She didn't miss this shot, even though 59-16 was high-tailing it. The round impacted his engine, causing him to stop and swerve onto the street. There was no fighting here, but there was in other parts of town, as M6 could hear. Obviously, the Black Barrels had pushed the military back to Tankville and beyond.

"Dang you!" M6 shouted lividly as she fired off a final shot, creating a cloud of vivid colours in place of 59-16, who became a pile of soot. M6 celebrated her victory as she looked down at the knocked-out Ram II, a black, almost patchy parachute draped over his turret. She was about to go downstairs to recover Ram II, but a buzzing noise stopped her. She turned around, just in time to see a black thunderbolt shock the shy, thundering right towards her.

The black thunderbolt was in fact a MiG-3, who was rather intent on tickling M6 with her puny guns. Gunfire erupted instantly, making M6's house cough clouds of dust as she accidentally chipped bricks with her inaccurate gunfire. As soon as she got on target, M6 yelped, firing a shot in reflex. The shell spun through the air, almost hitting MiG-3, who was not pleased. She did a loop, avoiding M6's bullets coming from her coaxial machine gun.

"Valentina, what is happening?" a voice in the plane's radio burst.

"I am exporting democracy!" Valentina replied, spinning in the air. "Bring Anna over here, will you? Be a sweetheart."

"Sure, but don't Americans usually say that? Sweetheart," the voice replied sarcastically.

"Yes, but I am the one exporting democracy to them!" Valentina responded whilst "exporting democracy" to M6, who turned her right wing into a pincushion with her machine gun.

"Ha!" M6 bellowed triumphantly. "Eat that, invader!"

"Natalya!" Valentina whined. "I've been shot by the Capitalist scum! Get Anna to take me back, will you?"

"Yeah, okay!" the radio replied.

Valentina ended up making a soft landing, being pelted by dirt after M6 made a near miss on her tail. Valentina picked up the speed. She was panicking. M6 was going to be the end of her.

"Fire!" M6 shouted to herself. It took her a few seconds to aim in, but it didn't matter. This plane was dead. Just before she fired, a cloud of impenetrable smoke (for the eyes, anyway) entered the arena, obscuring M6's view and causing her to shoot way off target, for the plane was escaping. Tons of planes dotted the sky, most of them fighters, but all of them jet black and Russian.

"When I said "bring Anna", I didn't mean bring a battalion!" Valentina shouted into the radio, extremely scared. She hadn't ever been in this situation before; she was an ace. She was too good to die!

"Anna came with some extra troops," Natalya replied. "Why do you need her, anyway?"

"I need her to do some airlifting. I also need repairs."

"The medic will help you. Just stay out of sight from the tank or anyone else, for that matter," the radio boomed.

"Yeah, okay!" Valentina replied as a rumble in the earth shook her. Explosions. Lots of them.

* * *

Tankville Hospital was in chaos. Absolute chaos. There's one thing about having a "Hetzer Spec Ops Team" bust into your hospital because of an incompetent security system, and then there's having tanks overload the hospital because of terrorists...

There was another casuality; not created by terrorists, but a rogue Hummel who decided to attack a small, defenceless tank destroyer. We now go to the hospital room, live...

"Is it really a good idea to film this?" a fat S35 CA with a moustache whispered, watching a Nashorn sombrely stare at the bedridden tank destroyer on camera.

"Good publicity, lad," an even fatter ARL V39 replied, patting the S35 CA's superstructure. "A great sob story creates lots and lots of viewings! And do you know what lots of viewings means?"

"...Loads of money?" S35 CA responded.

"Probably. It depends if the viewers like it or not."

"But this entire area is a sob story! There are people dying everywhere!" S35 CA protested.

"I don't care! I want to get this over with, so I can watch Comet Wars!" ARL V39 bellowed.

"Comet Wars is bad!"

"It ain't! You just don't understand good literature!"

"It's not even literature! It's a movie!" S35 yelled, ending the argument.

By this time, Nashorn had gone to get more tissues. Behind her was a UE 57 in bed, who looked like a right tool. Well, she needed the right tools to get herself fixed again! Eh? Eh?

"ARL, stop commentating on the dang thing!" S35 CA growled. "The viewers don't like your awful commentary!"

"Shut up, fam!" ARL V39 replied.

"Excuse me?"

"...It's something I got off my nephew...," ARL V39 whimpered.

"Well, don't say it again!" S35 CA responded indignantly. "Otherwise I'll clobber you!"

"Fine!" ARL V39 snarled. "Fam..."

We go to the tanks involved in this procedure to get their opinions...

"Yes, er, this is a very interesting case."

S35 CA held the microphone closer to the doctor's gun. "Why is that, doctor?"

"Because most of the causalities here are from terrorists! It's nice to get a normal casuality here for once..."

"And what is your name?" S35 CA asked, slightly scared by the tank's speech. A "normal" causality?

"Hopkins," the tank replied. He was clearly British.

"Thank you Hopkins for talking to us!" S35 CA turned around to the camera, giving the signal to ARL V39.

We now go to the tank involved in the conflict, a female UE 57...

"How are you?" S35 CA asked the little tank.

"I'm fine…," UE 57 replied, clearly tired and apprehensive.

"Good… now will you tell us what happened?"

"No!" UE 57 snapped angrily, out of character. "I don't want to think about that… that event!"

"ARL, she's throwing a hissy fit!" S35 CA whispered to his colleague. "What now?"

"Give her chocolate!" ARL V39 whispered back, trying to hold the camera with relative stability.

"Okay!" S35 CA agreed with this idea, for it was a great one. He pulled out a chocolate bar that he had bought three weeks ago out of his crew compartment and showed it to UE 57. "We'll give you this if you talk!"

"No!" UE 57 growled. "I require a cake, at least! Like a birthday cake!"

"Dang it!" S35 CA yelled, almost causing the ceiling to cave in with the sheer amount of strength he put into those two words. After heaving out of shouting-induced fatigue, S35 CA turned to ARL V39 and commanded him to bring him a birthday cake.

"No, lad! Get the cake yourself! I'm filming!" ARL V39 replied.

"Wait! You've been filming this?!"

"Of course I have! Bloopers 'n stuff!"

"Oh, whatever!" S35 CA drove backwards until his rear slammed the door open, driving out, his backside in front. "I'm off to go get a cake!" he called from the corridor.

"Make it a birthday cake!" UE 57 screeched, penetrating ARL V39's armour so much it almost shattered.

* * *

It was a perfect night for Halloween; a dark sky, a full moon that shone on the lone military tank fighting against the four vastly overpowered militant tanks… oh wait. It just got destroyed.

Then there was Birch Gun, prowling along, trying to avoid the moonlight. He suddenly jumped when a jet black T-54 appeared, illuminated by the white light that was cast over him. His pancake turret moved from side to side, scanning the streets: destroyed, shattered, ruined.

Birch Gun was attempting to get over to SPG Academy, because he figured he'd be safer sleeping in there than in his own house.

Unfortunately for him, he somehow managed to stumble over a rock, causing him to do a front flip and resulting in a rather loud CLANG noise. The T-54 was immediately alerted to his presence, and he was over there in a few seconds, catching Birch Gun.

"Who are you?" the invader asked. "You know you're not meant to be out at this time, stupid SPG… I should just shoot you right here..." He was considering taking Birch Gun down at that exact moment, but just as his shell was about to release into Birch Gun's engine, he had a sudden revelation and stopped himself. "Wait! It's you! You're the one who escaped!"

"No… no… no…," Birch Gun murmured in denial. He refused to believe that he had been caught! He supposed it was his fault, going out at this time…

"I'm sure that Der Herr Meister will have something in store for you… bad things of course. Ha!" T-54 replied, grabbing a walkie talkie off his side and speaking into it. "This is Thunder here; I've caught a little tank. I'm sure you'll be very excited to see who he is!"

"Who?" a voice came out of the walkie talkie. It was slightly scratchy, but it was still comprehensible.

"The Birch Gun. Yes, that Birch Gu-" The voice continued until Birch Gun shot T-54's side, impacting the armour and creating a few little fragments, at the expense of the poor walkie talkie, obviously.

"Why, you little-!" T-54 kept himself calm, choosing to bash Birch Gun on the gun shield instead of murdering him. Anyway, if he killed him, he'd be losing a potential reward! "Right… you come with me." T-54 grabbed Birch Gun's "face" and yanked him forward, creating significant pain to the little SPG. It is not shocking to know that T-54 didn't care, for he had obliterated his walkie talkie, and that was a good military grade one that his squad had stolen off a bunch of dead tanks.

As soon as T-54 had started yanking Birch Gun hard enough, they eventually arrived at Ghosst. The word had spread quickly that Birch Gun had been captured within the fighting force, despite that the radio was cut off. It didn't matter; the tanks on the receiving end of the message had understood, and they waited at the entrance to Ghosst, celebrating the T-54's victory, or Thunder as the other tanks called him. Birch Gun was marched over to that building that he had been in before… not the jail, the other one.

As Birch Gun was forced to enter that building, he panicked more, and more, and more...

Birch Gun attempted to resist T-54's overwhelming strength, but he was soon in that lift, being propelled up to that Jagdpanzer E 100's room. Der Herr Meister, whatever his dumb name was. It didn't matter. Birch Gun was dead.

When he entered the room, Amwolf Aldersflügel was visibly more angry than he had been when he first met Birch Gun.

He began instantly, even before Birch Gun had sat down... not that he had any plans to do so. "Hello, Birch Gun." He expected a reply, but he did not receive one, so he shouted as hard as he could: "**HELLO, BIRCH GUN!**"

Birch Gun fumbled around with his words, eventually slipping out a meek "hello".

"It has come to my attention that you have attempted to escape from my facility. This plan of yours worked initially, but it faltered when you decided to become an idiot and go outside at night. So, now you are back into my tracks..."

Birch Gun considered getting up and leaving, but T-54 was at the door, watching him intently. So that "plan" was probably fallible...

"You have made a great mistake, Birch Gun," Amwolf growled suspensefully, his voice gritted by hatred. "Death is not even a punishment for you now."

"Um... what?" Birch Gun murmured, but he was quickly shushed by Amwolf, who was in the middle of having a heated session.

"So, you shall work for the rest of your life! Boring, monotonous work! Like hitting a rock with a pickaxe for hours in order to get ore from it, but it will have no ore in it! Hahaha!"

Birch Gun expectedly didn't reply.

"Okay. Seriously. We're going to kill you now." With that, Amwolf shot at Birch Gun, but the shot unexpectedly went over him, creating a giant hole in the wall and subsequent cracking. Soon, the entire building was beginning to fall down as Amwolf fired again in anger, missing Birch Gun and hitting the wall next to T-54, who was escaping. He couldn't avoid the blast created by the high explosive shell, having his body thrown to the side, straight into the wall. Birch Gun took this opportunity to escape, racing out of the room.

It didn't take long for Amwolf to be following him; but instead of going through the door, he blew it open and the resounding wall, causing the roof to cave in on him. Birch Gun was smashing the lift's buttons so hard it could have made the building fall down from those presses, but thankfully it didn't.

As soon as Birch Gun was on the ground floor, he sped out of the building, not even wanting to watch it topple over. Amwolf was still hot on his trail as he burst out of the building, smashing the wall open in the process. This made Birch Gun turn around in shock.

"You don't know how strong I am!" Amwolf announced lividly, loading a high explosive shell. "Now you will pay!"

"No!" Birch Gun spluttered, feeling bits of road tumble onto him as the high explosive round missed him yet again. Slightly disoriented, Birch Gun swerved around and whizzed off at a great(ly bad) speed, leaving Amwolf flustered.

"You cannot escape!" Amwolf bellowed with power, almost throwing Birch Gun off his tracks. As the building behind him collapsed into rubble, Birch Gun was hiding in a bush.

He feared that his hiding spot was rather feeble, but it would have to do, as Amwolf was driving towards him. He might have even seen him enter the bush; if he did, Birch Gun was dead. Again.

Just as Birch Gun was fearing his exposure - just as Amwolf was closing in on his position, Birch Gun heard shouting. Distant shouting. It sounded like it was coming from the tunnel that came into Ghosst, but Birch Gun couldn't dare to look.

Amwolf heard the shouting as well. Instead of hiding in a bush and doing nothing like Birch Gun was doing, he decided to drive forwards, towards the source of the noise.

He soon learnt that that decision was a mistake as he felt the scalding impact of a shell hit him. It was on his upper glacis, which now had a mark on it. He focused his sights onto the tank that fired at him, and discovered it was a M60A2 "Starship", armed with a hundred and fifty-two millimetre gun. Amwolf turned to face the opposing tank, firing at it with his massive gun. The shell ploughed through the tank's armour so fast, it could have been a drill. The M60A2 was knocked out instantly... and there wasn't even a scream.

Birch Gun could hear the exchange between the two sides as a T-62A emerged beside the dead M60A2, firing off a shot into Amwolf's lower glacis. The shell ricocheted straight into the ground, and Amwolf was soon preparing his own shell. The T-62A swiftly dodged the Jagdpanzer's shell that flew towards him, probably getting PTSD. As the debris created by the shell pounded him, he moved back, behind the wreck of the M60A2.

Birch Gun had enough courage to look, as he could tell the gargantuan German tank destroyer was not focusing on him any more. As he left the safe confines of his bush into the open, he noticed the T-62A was speaking into a radio, frantically and shakily. The Russian tank saw Birch Gun, and impulsively opened fire upon him. Birch Gun got another fright of his life as the shell smashed into the road in front of him, and he decided to pick up his pathetic speed.

Amwolf was now getting pelted by shells, from tanks that lined up in front of him, tanks that had come from nowhere; main battle tanks. At that point, Amwolf realised that the military had pulled out the big guns, and his perception of the scene was verified to be true when he felt the force of an artillery shell exploding near him.

"You will die, you scum!" T-62A yelled at the German, lobbing another shell at him. It harmlessly bounced off Amwolf's armour, just like the other five shells that he had fired at him...

Amwolf noted that these foolish tanks firing at him did not notice that he had additional armour put onto him to make him even stronger than he already was. That was in addition to his other secret...

It was an idea he created; "small" improvements to his gun to improve the shell velocity by one hundred percent, and some other things.

So as these puny tanks fired at him, he felt rage deep inside him activating; piling up into a gigantic shot of fire. The T-62A instantly regretted existing as Amwolf's shot ate through his feeble armour, melting his insides and causing him to scream. His death was a slow one as fire burst through his gun, coming out of everything it could come out of.

Amwolf had used his new-found technology to improve his gun to the point where it could shoot out pure fire. It went with a new type of ammo he created himself – which ensured for a slow, painful death. He had spent hours in his personal workshop improving this technology.

And now the poor tanks opposing him were getting the brink of it. Amwolf was a super soldier of sorts: using technology from the future for his personal gain. As the T-62A's melted, liquid insides spilled out from the gaping hole created by Amwolf's shell, a Chieftain Mk. II appeared in the same location as the others, but he was beside T-62A, angling his armour. He quickly shot at Amwolf, but Amwolf was angled towards him now, so it ricocheted off into the air. Amwolf turned to get his gun in Chieftain's direction, and fired back. The shell pounded Chieftain's armour, digging inside it, but not penetrating fully.

This particular shell was loaded with a timed explosive, but Chieftain did not know this. He was just loading his breech when the shell that was half way drilled into him exploded, frazzling his armour and leaving his frontal armour torn open. It was so painful, all he could do was utter incomprehensible, meaningless words.

All of this destruction was also tearing Birch Gun's brain, so he decided to escape while he had the chance. However: there was only one exit out of Ghosst, and it was the one currently being occupied by Chieftain.

He needed to make a plan...

He had forged a plan in his little brain in five seconds, and it was foolproof. He would drive forwards, avoiding Amwolf's vision and escaping safely Around the borders of the town (there were large, impenetrable walls stationed all around the town) were trees, which was where Birch Gun was going to go. He would hide behind the cover of the trees and foliage and slowly make his way towards the exit.

Amwolf also wanted to leave, but he had a different plan: kill EVERYTHING. Except his allies, of course, but they were probably all dead.

The next step of his plan was to load his next special shell: the electroshock shell. This shell was designed to plop into a space on the tank and destroy everything via electrocution. It had less penetrating power than other shells, and its electrifying power is used after contact with anything metallic.

So as he loaded and fired the shell that flew straight into Chieftain's crew compartment, he knew it could not fail as blue shock waves erupted all along the tank's hull, making him scream. A few seconds later, Chieftain's gun drooped as he became lifeless, black lines all across his hull.

Birch Gun was next. Amwolf turned towards to his bush and instantly fired at it, but it did nothing except deface the bush... and set it on fire. Oops. He was using a fire round.

Birch Gun was attempting to escape; he had gotten to the tunnel. There should have been a guard, but there was nothing except a... a burning wreck of a guard, Birch Gun assumed. As he entered the tunnel, partly covered by the bush from Amwolf's view, he was rammed to the side by an AMX-30, coloured in an urban camouflage. This AMX-30 was obviously a professional, as Birch Gun could tell. He was half shocked when he watched the AMX-30 have a brain aneurysm by receiving a shot in the turret.

The AMX-30 pulled back quickly, planting a shot in the German tank destroyer's upper glacis, but to no effect.

Birch Gun instantly noticed that the AMX-30 was a woman, because he could uh... tell. She drew back into the tunnel, pressing her rear against the tunnel and panting heavily. A big hole was in her turret – she was lucky it wasn't one of Amwolf's "special" shells. Otherwise she'd be in a greater deal of pain...

Birch Gun decided he'd use this time to escape, because it was only a matter of time before the AMX-30 would die and he would be left on his own. Almost an entire squad of tanks had fallen, and Birch Gun wasn't going to be the next tank...

As Birch Gun exited the tunnel and came into Ruskie, he wondered if he would one day get a proper education. He could become Professor Gun and teach tanks in Prestigiousville, which was the town of St. Prestigetons University, the most prestigious university in all the world.

His dream! Plus, he would get a lot of money... that was maybe the reason why he wanted that job...

He wasn't going to get that job anyway if he was dead, so he decided to pick up his pace. He was slowly going up the road, too scared to turn on his lights and potentially have a tank find him. He was coming up to SPG Academy now; it was on the side of the road. He drove over to the gate, seeing the moonlight reflect off it. He was rather crestfallen when he bashed the gates, only to hear and see the chains going against the gate, stopping the entire thing from opening.

This was an emergency! They could buy new chains...

The deed was done. Birch Gun shot the padlock off, rather clumsily and loudly, almost missing the entire thing completely (despite that he was right in front of it). He pulled the gate open, closing it behind him and rushing to the school's door. To his surprise, the school's entrance was unlocked. As he slowly opened it up, he noticed the reception was slightly messed up; papers were everywhere, a computer monitor was on the floor... what happened here?

As the school doors shut behind him and the white sheets of moonlight hid away, Birch Gun slowly moved forward. He planned he would live behind the counter until the morning; then he would slink back into the school and actually _learn_. Wow.

Unbeknownst to him, as he slid behind the counter, somebody had already set up camp behind the counter (rather literally). Birch Gun made a rather effeminate squeal when he noticed the tank sitting behind him, sleeping. This squeal (unsurprisingly) woke up the tank with a fright.

The two tanks stared at each other for a few seconds with a certain tinge of awkwardness.

Birch Gun noticed instantly that, despite the darkness, he could see the tank and identified it as T57. How bizarre! It didn't take long either for T57 to notice that the tank in front of her was his Birch Gun.

"Oh my gosh!" T57 exclaimed loudly, probably waking the whole town up. "It's you!"

"Yes, it's me," whispered Birch Gun, subtly shushing the American SPG. He was a bit thrown off by T57's presence. "W... why are you here?"

"I had to leave the house," T57 murmured defeatedly. "We had some problems..."

"Like what?" Birch Gun asked, intrigued.

T57 didn't reply. She decided to change the subject. "So... uh, why are you here?"

"Because living here is safer than living in my own house," Birch Gun answered. "What about you?"

"M-Me too...," T57 muttered, looking at the ground. "I was, uh, just sleeping. I didn't have much sleep yesterday..."

Neither did Birch Gun, but that was because constant fighting was keeping him awake all night. Also, his bed felt like rock.

"Right, then. I'll get to sleep." With that, Birch Gun nestled himself against a cushion that was on the floor for some reason, quickly falling asleep.

T57 could now sleep soundly, knowing she had a friend beside her. As Birch Gun was at peace with himself, sleeping (Birch Gun being at peace with himself only happens when he is asleep, obviously), T57 hopped close to him, resting on his side hull. He was cold, but T57 didn't care.

This was peaceful.

As the tranquil curtains of sleep were drawn over T57, there was a slight disturbance in the school.

At the back entrance of the school, something very different was happening. Two jet black tanks were carrying a stretcher, complete with a knocked out Panzer IV Ausf. A, strapped down to the stretcher. The wind whistled as these three tanks entered the school.

Behind these three tanks was an entire column of jet black Sherman Fireflies, dubbed the Flame Division. The first tank in the column was holding a torch, illuminating the tanks behind him. They drove in a perfect line, going along the path, along with the kidnappers.

These tanks planned to take over and control the school in less than an hour, considering the circumstances. Then, when the students and teachers came to the academy the next day, they would get a nasty surprise. The school would be mobilised and used as a soldier's barracks, and some "extra special" students would get to be locked in a room and brainwashed...

The kidnappers aimed to get to the second floor and contain the Panzer in one of the rooms, having the word spread about the tank, and then waiting for the police or military to spill in. The more the dead, the better.

This particular Panzer IV Ausf. A was a little nipper who had decided to go outside at night, even going as far to greet one of the jet black tanks with open tracks. This got him a gun bash on the turret, a quick hauling, and now he was being taken hostage in the upper floor of a school he didn't even go to.

So when a jet black Type T-34 drove straight through the school gate (the tank did find it a bit weird that the gate was completely open), opened the unlocked door, and came into a slightly messed up reception, she was rather confuddled.

...

Wait, is that a tank?

Birch Gun instantly woke up upon hearing the invader (implying that he wasn't an invader anyway); he was uneasy, even while sleeping. Having T57 lying on him wasn't helping either, so he had to shake her off, which woke her up.

T57 was about to whine, but Birch Gun shushed her. "There's a militant tank standing right there!" he whispered harshly.

His harshness hurt her feelings, but this was no time for feelings! She decided to sulk instead.

Unfortunately for the two SPGs, the Type T-34 heard this one way exchange. But, she was also rather uneasy. Her gun barrel was shaking as much as anthropomorphic jelly that was trying to dance to 80's disco. "W-W-W... ugh... who is there?!"

"Oh my SerB Birch Gun what do we do what do we do what do we do?!" T57 was freaking out.

Birch Gun decided to take advantage of the Type T-34's overapprehensiveness, despite being terrified himself. "Put your gun to the floor!" he growled through rifled barrel in his best macho gruff voice.

"I'm not scared of y-you!" Type T-34 replied shakily, slowly backing off. Her gun aimed at the counter, wanting to fire at it, but she had no idea what was hiding behind there...

"B-Birch Gun, do something!" T57 moaned melancholily.

Type T-34 accidentally backed into a bookcase, managing to make it fall down onto her with a rather obstreperous sound. Tons of boring books impacted onto the ground, along with the bookcase, temporarily stunning Type T-34.

Birch Gun suddenly realised that her clumsiness had let her into this situation. He decided to toy with her. "That was me! I have the power to make bookcases fall on you! Now disappear before I uh... I send MORE bookcases upon you!"

"O-Okay! I'm g-going!" Type T-34 murmured, escaping out of the building. She smashed through the window, making a deafening sound. Birch Gun instantly hid behind the counter, fearing that something bad would happen.

"B-Birch Gun! Now they're gonna come and kill us!" T57 muttered, scared out of her mind.

"Oh, don't worry! As if that would happen!" Birch Gun reassured T57, but he was having doubts himself. "Now we can sleep!"

T57 didn't even reply: she just instantly fell asleep. It didn't take long for Birch Gun to fall asleep as well, but unbeknownst to the two tanks, a tank a similar age to them was now slowly and groggily waking up from their "forced" sleep, locked in a dark room, strapped to a table...

As soon as the Panzer IV Ausf. A realised he was sleeping in his bed and instead strapped to a cold, hard table, he instinctively began to scream and call for help. This earned him a slap from one of the jet black tanks standing next to him, shifting the call to a cry. This happened to irritate the tank even more, so he stuck a bottle in the Panzer's gun. Surprisingly, it fit perfectly, and that spelled the end of Panzer IV A's calls for help.

However, in this particular instance, the Fritz was lucky. Birch Gun ended up hearing the cries, waking up rather quickly. He decided that he didn't want to wake up T57 again, as he didn't know how crabby she could be if he woke her up. Also, she was lying on him again. What the heck!

He tried to push her off, but she wouldn't budge. Even stubborn in her sleep...

After a few minutes of precise, careful pushing, T57 finally fell off him, sitting on the floor, still asleep. Phew!

Birch Gun could now go investigate the sound that he heard earlier, but his brain was telling him not to. Screw you, brain!

As he got up, he heard T57 snoring. It was like a light whistle; very unlike any snoring he had heard before. It was almost like a... oh no.

Birch Gun threw himself behind the counter before the walls began to crack and break down. The wall was already cracking, which did not spell hope for Birch Gun and his friend.

The first thing that went through Birch Gun's fragile mind was: "Why are they doing this?" Birch Gun had to instantly spring into action as a Molotov cocktail was flung through the open crack in the room, creating a floor of fire. The hot flames licked at the air, making Birch Gun feel extremely uneasy (as anyone would be if they were being surrounded by fire). It was fine. He could get through this.

He slapped T57's gun, making her wake up instantly in a rather crabby way (just as Birch Gun was predicting); but her attitude stopped when she realised that fire was slowly creeping towards her. Then she was just screaming.

As soon as the crack became big enough for a tank to pass through, one of them did. It was a jet black (as usual) Sherman Firefly, adorned with a fiery pattern on the sides of the hull, and on the end of the barrel.

The pattern was reflective, making the tank stand out, rendering the blazing image useless and a liability. At least it looked cool.

These particular Sherman Fireflies – dubbed the (aforementioned) Flame Division were equipped with a coaxial flamethrower on their turret, burning everything down. These tanks were pyromaniacs, and they were going to show that to Birch Gun.

Except they weren't, because Birch Gun had already popped out and popped open the Sherman Firefly's back with a shell, setting his engine on fire and making him scream. How's that for fire?!

As soon as the Firefly realised that he was a literal firefly (his rear was on fire), he ran around in a circle, driving into the fire and slipping over onto his turret, smashing his gun into the wall. Birch Gun rose his turret out from cover, taking the Sherman's turret off its ring. The turret was soon mingling with the floor – which was good, because Birch Gun thought it needed a social life.

That was a twisted joke. What is wrong with Birch Gun? (Answer: many things.)

Soon after the first Firefly died, a second one drove into the building, instantly firing at Birch Gun. The shell hit the counter, drilling through it and almost hitting Birch Gun. As a third Firefly entered, Birch Gun was being overwhelmed with fear of death, or at least capture.

T57 was now crying like a newborn baby; the noise was endless. Birch Gun was getting rather annoyed with it, but his focus went over to the enemies after he almost took a shell in the face.

Birch Gun wanted to kill every single one of them, to protect himself and T57. Who knew she could cry so much?

One of the fiery tanks decided to be smart and directly drive round to the end of the counter, aiming at Birch Gun. He swerved round to the Firefly, aiming straight into his dark soul.

Birch Gun was shuddering intensely as he aimed his cold, dark barrel at the Firefly. The medium tank did the same... except his barrel was fiery. Birch Gun wondered why the tank did not fire at him and end his sad existence – but the Firefly wondered that too. Until he saw...

"These two tanks are just kids!" the Firefly shouted. "Hold your fire!"

"Hell no!" another tank called out angrily. "This tank killed one of our own!"

Suddenly, a tank appeared behind the Firefly that Birch Gun was facing, pushing him out of the way indignantly, straight into the counter. This tank was jet black too, but with a blue fire pattern instead of a red one. This tank had a black bandanna draped over the turret front for some reason. "Gun up," he stated with no emotion whatsoever.

Birch Gun obeyed instantly, putting his gun straight up to the ceiling.

"Right..." The special tank seemed pleased with that. Then he saw T57, who was very scared indeed – and she wasn't holding up her gun! "Gun up, American!"

Once T57 realised she was being shouted at by the masked tank, she began to shake even more. Fire was creeping up everywhere, and the Fireflies noticed. This job needed to finish quick.

The masked tank didn't take lightly to being ignored, so he shouted. His turret vibrated, purely because of the loudness of the shout.

T57 still didn't obey. Birch Gun was getting more alarmed at this rate; the smoke was building up, and there was fire creeping over to the counter. He was taking it pretty well.

"That's it!" the masked Firefly yelled, opening fire on T57 (rather literally). As the line of heat reached T57, she began to deny what was happening in front of her.

Birch Gun noticed that T57 was being cooked. He didn't like this, so he shot at the masked Firefly's flamethrower encased inside the turret. The high explosive shell struck the flamethrower perfectly, creating a wave of fire to appear inside the tank's turret. He began to scream, but it wasn't for long as the fuel tank that was connected to the flamethrower exploded, blowing up the cannon breech and rendering him unable to speak.

A minute later, he burnt out, becoming a metal statue in the form of a charred tank. It took a minute for the Firefly behind him to notice that his leader was in fact not negotiating, but he was dead. He lunged forward for Birch Gun, but ended up smashing into a wall. A quick shot into the engine took him out.

Then it got crazy.

T57 melting, Fireflies moving forward, the academy burning down... what could Birch Gun do? It didn't take long for another Firefly to appear, unleashing a tsunami of fire onto Birch Gun. His armour resisted it slightly, but he was feeling a bit hot. The smoke was now full in the room, going up Birch Gun's gun barrel and making him cough – a shell right into the wreck of the masked Firefly.

T57 was screaming, as usual in this situation. How she wasn't unconscious Birch Gun didn't know.

The good thing about this smoke was there was no way for the Firefly to hit Birch Gun now, unless they knew exactly where he was. But now he was putting T57 onto his top, intending to sneak their way out of the place. That was the plan...

Birch Gun had a great idea: shoot a hole in the wall and escape that way. He did so, but it didn't really go according to plan. The wall ended up cracking a bit more than he had intended, but he still rushed out of there. The smoke was now slowly clearing from the room, but the fire wasn't. It seemed to Birch Gun that the Flame Division were resistant to fire... somehow.

As Birch Gun ran out of there as fast as he could (not very fast, considering that there was a weight on his back), he noticed that there was an Avro Lancaster bomber flying high above him. He didn't have time to think before bombs dropped from the Lancaster, straight onto the school, destroying it instantly. A big chunk of the wall smashed into the ground in front of Birch Gun; if he hadn't stopped to ogle the British bomber, that would have hit him...

"That's a direct way of dealing with the militants...," Birch Gun murmured. Just like that, the entire Flame Division was dead... oh, wait!

One tank had survived the blast, and he was slowly driving out of the shattered building, barely alive. He looked to Birch Gun for help, but he was racing away...

_Now_ the entire Flame Division was dead.

And as Birch Gun zoomed off, he thought about the consequences of his actions. T57 was now calmer; she was only sniffing now.

He would just go home! Surely that would be better than living in a school for a day. Yeah...!

After some boring trekking that wasn't even worthy of being in writing, Birch Gun was on Tankville Road, where there were no fighters at all, strangely. He thought he heard an engine, but he must have been hearing things! Until he found out that a tank was actually behind him, and they had plucked T57 off his back, slamming her on the gun with a pipe, knocking her out.

Birch Gun didn't actually realise the presence of the tank until it was his turn to be clobbered. As soon as the pipe hit him the first time, he slowly moved his turret to his attacker. This attacker was too fast for him, however (and he was also rather strong), so when the pipe came down a second time, Birch Gun's gun was knocked downwards, creating dizziness. His vision was blurred; he tried to resist the assault, but he was out by the third swing.

When he woke up, his vision was incredibly hazy – his only light source was a little oil lamp on a table, slightly illuminating the dark room he was in. He turned on his engine and got up, driving over to a possible door, but he ended up ramming the table by accident, causing the oil lamp to slide onto the floor, smashing the lamp and destroying his only light source.

Great. Now what was he to do?

A few seconds later, he heard the agonising screams of a tank. It was giving off a chilling echo, and Birch Gun knew it was T57 at once. He braced himself as he prepared to ram the wall, hoping that there was a door. His tracks spun as he raced towards more blackness. He ended up ramming into some bars.

He was in some sort of cell! There was a very small amount of light coming from a hall which went into the cell. At this point, he didn't know anything. He could make out the boundaries of the room, but nothing else.

All he could do was wait!


	28. One Week Later

In a fairly dark, poorly lit room, two tanks stood opposite each other at a once expensive dining table. It was now smashed up, as if somebody had gone haywire on it with a hammer and various other tools of destruction. One of these tanks was a visibly American tired soldier, cigar stereotypically in barrel, with various "medals" of war - scratches, bumps and marks from the battles he had fought. The tank adjacent to him was a studious tank with glasses on his turret. The American wagered that he was a French tank; and he was so hungry, he'd bet his last chocolate bar on it...

"We've got two new tanks going through processing," the French tank began. He spoke English fluently with a sense of intelligent clarity: if you happened to be a dumb tank, you would find the way he spoke condenscending.

"Yes?" the American replied gruffly. "Black Barrels? Refugees?"

"We are not entirely sure at this present moment, but I am certain that we will know soon."

"Are they being interrogated?" the French tank's colleague asked.

"Yes."

"By who-"

"By us! Obviously!" the American replied, taking the other tank's gun and pulling it, along with the rest of his tank, out of the room.

"Who are you?" an oil-stained KV-3 asked T57, who was tied up, a light focused on her. The light blinded her and reflected against her headlights.

"I... I've already told you!" T57 retorted angrily. "I am T57!"

"T57 of what? The National Intelligence Committee of Crepuscularity?" the KV-3 responded bitterly.

"What the heck is that?" T57 spoke indignantly.

"You should be the one telling me, scum!" KV-3 shouted at the innocent SPG, driving over to a tool bench and grabbing a blowtorch. He slotted a welding mask onto his turret front. He turned to T57 rather sinisterly.

"It is clear that you are a spy, yet under intense interrogation, you will not tell me that you are one. So, for lying to me and the entire White Sabre organisation, you will pay." His last words were dripping with venom.

T57 was now shuffling in her seat, attempting to free herself from the rope that bound her. She attempted to fire a shell, but nothing came out except for a nervous, wheezy cough.

"I will make sure pain is delivered to you - each in increasing segments - until you confess to me. And if you don't, then you'll eventually die. Either way, you'll die, so you might as well make yourself useful."

T57's first words were: "BIRCH GUN!", conjured in her apprehensive heart and expelled from her agitated cannon breech.

"Crying won't help you here, miss T57. The Black Barrels get only the worst punishment; nobody will come to help. Nobody will save you. There is no point..." KV-3 growled menacingly, looking around for a tool. He went to the tool bench and grabbed a cleaver. "Mhm... will this work?" He looked back at the shuddering SPG. "No, I don't think so..."

"I-I didn't do anything! Please let me go!" the camouflaged tank opposite the KV-3 who was foraging for tools cried. "I swear on my heart!"

"Well, you won't have a heart soon!" KV-3 snarled, getting angry at the little tank's attempts to convince him. "You're not the only tank that will be interrogated today. There is also a British SPG who will be tried." KV-3 took a drill from the tool bench, fitting it with a large drill bit. A spike protuded from the drill bit, glinting in the light that a lamp created.

"No!" T57 screamed crazily. Her tracks spun as she tried to escape, but to no great effect. The ropes were tight and firm; they could have been chains.

"Tell me, dearie... have you ever heard of lynching?"

"Stop calling me creepy names!" T57 yelled, ignoring the question. No, she hadn't!

"I guess that is American talk for "no, I haven't, sir", which annoys me greatly. Why can't you just speak like a normal person? Argh! Stupid, stupid tank!" He brandished his blowtorch, checking to see if it was working.

Meanwhile, Birch Gun had decided that the best way to get out of the cell was to blast it open. He did so, but it took a couple of shots. After the bars came away and Birch Gun escaped the cell. He turned on his headlights to see; at once, he saw that the room he was in was rectangular and it hosted several other cells. There was a screen door that was in front of him, which he slammed open. The yellow doorknob fell off as it collided with the grey brick wall.

His goal was to rescue the fair maiden T57, who wasn't exactly a maiden, but whatever. He ventured forward into another room, illuminated only by a flickering lightbulb. There were two rooms and one doorway; one of the rooms had a light on. Perfect! _Who's in there? _he wondered, making his way towards the door.

Two tanks were driving throughout the building, intending to find a British SPG that was taken "hostage"; that's how it was described by his captor. Their instant assumption was that this SPG was a member of the Black Barrels in some form. Their bewilderment could only be described as immense when they drove to the cell that he was supposedly contained in, only to discover that the bars that were meant to confine him were utterly destroyed, with track marks blackening the floor going from the cell.

Fortunately for Birch Gun, these track marks happened to disappear gradually over his journey; they disappeared entirely when he went into the middle of the next room.

"Grr! Where is this tank?" the American barked, clearly angry.

The answer to that was he was breaching the KV-3's "interrogation" room, where he was about to torch T57 and drill into her. Birch Gun saw the tool-wielding KV-3 instantly.

"What the heck!" Birch Gun shouted at once. He readied himself for action.

"W...what are you doing here!" the KV-3 yelled. "This is a private investigation!"

"Investigation?" Birch Gun retorted in a slightly sardonic, mocking tone. "It looks like you're about to hurt my friend!"

"Pah! Grr!" KV-3 turned his turret towards Birch Gun, dropping the blowtorch. The blue cylinder dropped onto the floor, rolling into the wall. "You will go now, or suffer!" KV-3 spoke this sentence in a cold, threatening tone.

Birch Gun tried to be vigiliant, but there was only so much vigilance he could use until his confidence dwindled. "L-Look here! She's done n-nothing wrong, so you should just let her go. We are not participating in this w-war!"

"Oh, really? I think I will have to interrogate you as well, since you are speaking as much nonsense as this other vehicle, here." KV-3 reversed over to the blowtorch, picking it up again and making sure it was functional.

"No no no; I personally do not believe that this is necessary," Birch Gun replied, trying to keep as calm as possible. He could definitely run out of the room and escape this horrible place, but that would be selfish. T57 would end up hurt, or even worse.

"I think it is!" KV-3 growled. "You have respited my operation for a minute or so, and now you will stop!" KV-3 threw himself at Birch Gun, his gun barrel being sent down onto his frail gun shield with significant force.

Birch Gun went down after the strike, falling on his left side. He attempted to right himself, but KV-3 forcefully pushed him out of the room, and then slammed the door. On the other side, Birch Gun heard the click of a lock, and then screaming...

The door appeared to be made out of solid iron, so there was no point trying to blast through it...

Birch Gun heard the muffled sound of a motor going; then KV-3 speaking, but he couldn't understand it very well. The wall was too thick for him to hear the speech with any form of clarity.

The SPG decided that the best option was to blow the wall down. The eighteen pounder shell smashed into the wall, creating a tempest of dust and debris. The wall certainly was not as fortified as the door - that was proven by its crumbling. As the wall fell around Birch Gun, the ceiling began to lose its support as well.

KV-3 only realised when a fragment of the ceiling dropped down at a high speed, conking him on the head. Birch Gun decided that running would be a good idea as he watched KV-3 get showered in jagged pieces of wall.

Birch Gun's tracks started to roll as soon as his reflexes allowed him to. T57 emerged out of the smoke, barrelling out of the room through the hole in the wall. She looked relatively fine, but there were some indentations in her side.

"B-Birch Gun!" T57 squealed. She was shaking almost uncontrollably, stricken with desolate fear.

Birch Gun was unnaturally calm, even amongst all of the pointless destruction. As the walls and ceiling caved in, Birch Gun simply took T57 by the gun and drove out of there. As he picked up speed, driving through a hall, an American tank appeared, opening a door. Birch Gun and T57 zoomed straight past him; destruction following in their tracks. The tank only realised that he was about to be caved in when it was too late.

"What the heck are we going to do?!" T57 spluttered frantically. She only just managed to form the words instead of creating a mess of jumbled words and spit.

"Umm... uh!" Birch Gun mumbled whilst looking about for something that could save them. But there was nothing.

The next few seconds was a picture of blackness for both tanks as everything caved in...

* * *

An extremely loud ringing sound accompanied Birch Gun as he woke up groggily. He was in a gigantic pile of cracked pieces of rubble, but fortunately, he was on the top. The sky was dark and misty, but it looked slightly red.

A corner of his hull was dented and the headlight on it was shattered. A bit of rubble was resting on his turret on his right side, and debris covered most of his hull. The other headlight managed to shine through the rubble and create a cone of vision for Birch Gun. In front of him was more rubble, which was hardly surprising.

The wind carried along sounds of brutal combat, which shook Birch Gun slightly. The sounds of big guns firing and screaming was what he was hearing. The thought that was created inside Birch Gun's head scared him even more, so he attempted to escape his debris prison. The fear that the battle would come to him!

So he put all of his remaining strength into getting himself out of the mess. He felt like he was punching the rubble away and using his brute strength and his tank muscles to smash himself out of the trap, but in reality, he was merely driving out of the rubble.

As he landed onto the soft ground (which wasn't actually soft; it was concrete), he noticed that, in another mound of similar looking rubble, a gun was sticking out of it. He drove over to the pile of rocky bits and inspected the gun. The camouflage on it indicated to Birch Gun that it was T57, who was currently unconscious.

Without saying anything, the SPG rummaged through the rubble, eventually finding the prize: a knocked out T57.

"Wake up!" the disgruntled British SPG shouted, pushing the rubble away and grabbing T57's gun. She woke up instantly, and not very softly...

"Whuh!" T57 exclaimed involuntarily upon having her gun yanked forwards. She fell onto the cold, hard ground; as the grass embraced her, she looked up at Birch Gun, his one working headlight flickering.

He looked like a superhero.

"Come on! Get up!" Birch Gun began. His tone was slightly hushed. "We don't know if any of them are going to try and find us!"

"Who! What! Where?" T57 replied dizzily. She put herself on her two tracks.

"I have no idea where we are, but I'll try and find my house," Birch Gun muttered, unsure about the situation that the two young tanks were in.

T57 was no longer listening, because she was on the ground again, probably battling her inner demons.

Birch Gun either didn't notice or was ignoring her state, because he was still rambling. "And then we will strike back!"

In the distance, a Sd Kfz. 251/20 was driving along the road. This particular variant of the Sd Kfz. had a sixty centimetre infrared searchlight on its top. In this instance, it was admiring the destruction that had struck the town, being a product of the Black Barrels' arrival. Alongside the half-track was an A-44, following the beam of light that banished the dark sheets of the night from his vision.

They were looking for survivors of the battle that had gone on in the last day. It had been a glorious week for the Black Barrels' enemies, because slowly, they had been running out of units to fight with. The group had been pushed back to this city, which they decided to blow up for no other reason other than spite.

These two military vehicles had been instructed to look out for any civilians and deal with them accordingly. They had found a lot of frazzled tank corpses, but no live vehicles. The duo both thought there was no point looking for survivors, since there wouldn't be any!

"Hang on!" the half-track exclaimed, his searchlight turning a bit. The light was now focused on mounds of rubble. He was sure he had seen something. But when nothing emerged from the rubble, he murmured a feeble "never mind".

Behind the rubble were two SPGs. One of them was Birch Gun, who dove for cover almost immediately after seeing the half-track's light, bringing T57 with him.

He was in the mindset that the light was actually from a Black Barrels member, who had come to destroy him and his friend.

After a few minutes of scared silence, Birch Gun spoke up. "Have you ever had a dream?"

This random talk threw T57 off, since she was content with having a sulk about their situation: being stranded in a destroyed town in the dark with evil people coming up to them.

"I wanted to be a make-up artist," replied T57, sniffling.

"I wanted to be a FV304. Believe it or not, I wanted a family." He sounded sombre, but then he suddenly turned into a machine of anger, picking up a squashed tin can and lobbing it into the air, as hard as he can. Despite his fury, it still didn't go very far.

"Grr!" Birch Gun snarled. "Why does this always happen to me!"

"Wh... what?" T57 muttered.

There was an awkward, tense pause. "It doesn't matter. Besides... they're coming now!" Birch Gun replied alarmedly.

"This place is way worse than Tankville," A-44 sighed, looking around at the destroyed buildings. They were slowly coming up to the rubble now.

"It could be pretty nice if it wasn't all blown up," Sd Kfz. replied.

As the two vehicles came to the rubble, Birch Gun started to shake, fearing his own, precious life. His turret turned to the right, since his left side was blocked off by more rubble. He readied himself to shoot.

"I'll go around this side," Sd Kfz. told A-44, who went off in the other direction. The half-track was side onto the two SPGs when he appeared, shining his light onto Birch Gun and blinding him. Sd Kfz. quickly noticed his mistake and turned his searchlight off, leaving only Birch Gun's flickering headlight as a source of light. The Sd Kfz. turned head on to Birch Gun.

The next few seconds for Birch Gun were ones of absolute fear as he stared into the viewports of the half-track...

"A-44!" Sd Kfz shouted, breaking the silence. The Russian tank instantly turned his turret, driving over to Sd Kfz. "It's just two damn kids!"

"What!" A-44 sighed; it was unknown whether it was a groan or relief. He arrived at the rubble, staring down on Birch Gun and the cowering T57. "Hmm..."

"What are your names?" Sd Kfz asked. "We'll get you back to where you need to go."

"Birch Gun," the SPG answered, "and that's T57," he continued, pointing to the American. If tanks could be in the fetal position, she would be right now.

"Birch Gun," A-44 repeated. "Do you live in Tankville, by any chance?"

"Yes."

"Hmm!" A-44 hummed. "I believe you are the one."

"Sorry?" Birch Gun seemed confused.

"There have been posters all over town about you. I think they were put up about a week ago," Sd Kfz. mentioned, and then he turned his attention. "Isn't it a coincidence we found him here, next to a pile of rubble...?"

"Posters?"

"Yes. Posters," A-44 responded. "There were lots of them. All of the posters inquired about your location and a return to your house in Tankville."

"Nobody would have found you out here," Sd Kfz. replied. "Now, I think we'd ought to get you back to Tankville. It's not that far away."

Birch Gun looked at his fellow SPG friend, who didn't seem to be doing much. Birch Gun assumed she was asleep. "Is it safe?" he asked, remembering the previous few times he had been in his home town.

"We drove those damn tanks out of there." A-44 spoke with a powerful, triumphant voice. "And then we drove them out of the next town."

"And the next," Sd Kfz. coined in. "We've really been beating them back!"

"Good!" Birch Gun replied. "Maybe after all of this, I will get a decent education!"

"Ahh, don't worry about that," A-44 laughed. "I spent my teen years as a farmer. Look where I am now!" A-44 started driving away, beckoning Sd Kfz. and Birch Gun over, so they could drive with him.

"Wake up, T57," Birch Gun whispered softly to the American SPG next to him. The nap she was having didn't seem particularly smooth; she was shaking in her sleep. "Wake up!" he repeated, slightly louder.

"What?" T57 woke up instantly, muttering. "What's... what's happening?"

"We're getting out of here," Birch Gun responded.

"I'm too t-tir- I uh, weak to drive...," T57's response was slow and lacked clarity.

"Shut up!" Birch Gun snapped quickly, rather out of character. "If you don't want to die, then you will get out of here with us!"

"C-Can you carry me?" T57 muttered.

"Ugh, fine!" Birch Gun groaned, picking up the rather heavy T57. He began to accelerate, but his speed was much slower than usual. He wasn't very fast anyway, so he was about the speed of a tortoise with broken legs.

* * *

After a long time, the group of tanks returned to Tankville. Down Tankville Road was Birch Gun and T57, being escorted by A-44. He was now responsible for the two young tanks' safety.

"Where are your houses?" the Russian tank asked.

"Over there," Birch Gun replied, pointing in the direction of his house. T57 was still stowed on Birch Gun's hull. Over the course of a thirty minute drive, Birch Gun was not feeling very well. Hauling almost ten tons of steel was very hard for the British SPG, considering he was only twelve tons himself.

"Birch Gun...," T57 murmured. Birch Gun sensed she was about to ask a stupid question.

"What?" Birch Gun asked tiredly, sighing. He just wanted to go to bed.

"My house got um, kinda destroyed. Can I stay at your house until an alternative comes along?" T57 asked, ready to plead if he did not comply.

"What? Oh, uh... I'd have to check with my mum... do we have a spare bedroom? Oh dear...," Birch Gun mumbled.

A-44 was now getting bored of this, so he asked: "Can you two deal with this yourselves? I want to sleep."

"Of course," Birch Gun responded, his voice lagging. He was about to fall asleep himself. A-44 gave him a little nod, turned around and drove off.

Birch Gun drove over to his house, with T57 in tow. He knocked on the door silently; the paranoia of a potential Black Barrel appearing was making him sweat.

After about thirty knocks and no answer, he remembered he had a key in his possession... somewhere. "I have a key to open the door," Birch Gun began, "and I need to access my crew compartment. Can you mo-"

"-this key?" T57 interjected, holding a key in front of Birch Gun.

"W... Well, yes, it is that key, but why were you digging around in my crew compartment?" Birch Gun asked sceptically, taking the key from T57 and unlocking the door.

Multiple answers to this question floated around in T57's mind. It was just like she was in a story-driven game where you talk and stuff, because there were multiple answers and the world was in slow motion. Tanks are Strange, a game that T57 really liked playing on her iPad was one of those games. And... whatever!

"Because I care," T57 replied, super charmingly, like a really suave tank, but not suave for men; suave for women, because suave is typically an adjective used to describe men... _T57, are you overthinking this?_

"Right. Well, let's go in. I'm sure my mother will accept you in. She's a hospitable person." Birch Gun entered, along with T57, who finally jumped off his back.

"Mum!" Birch Gun shouted up the stairs. His mother was not asleep; she was probably browsing _MotherVehiclesNet, _trying to doze off. It was rather hard to, though, considering what had been happening over the past few weeks.

"Mum!" Birch Gun repeated. "Hang on T57; I'll be right back." Birch Gun drove up the stairs. Once he drove up the stairs, he made a right, going into Crusader SP's bedroom.

She was on her iPad, as expected, pointing her gun towards her son, listening intently. She put her iPad on her bedside table.

"Listen, uh, I have a visitor. She... her house was destroyed, and she needs to stay here for a while. Would that be possible?" Birch Gun asked.

"_She?_" Crusader SP spoke with uncertainty. "This vehicle is a girl?"

"Yes. What is wrong with that?"

"Gosh. Well, I didn't know it would be this early...," Crusader SP mumbled to herself. "Very well. Bring her in. I am not sure where she will sleep, but I am sure you will figure something out."

Birch Gun thanked his mother and descended down the stairs, meeting T57 at the door, who appeared to be rather cold. "Mother said you could come in. We are not sure where you could sleep, as we only have two bedrooms."

"I'll s-sleep o-on t-the f-floor...," T57 replied, her barrel chattering from the perishing air. She entered the lounge with Birch Gun, rubbing her tracks on the doormat, shutting the door behind her.

"So, what do you think?" Birch Gun asked, looking around the lounge. "Our house has not been shaken much by the war, but some of my neighbours have been affected..."

T57 directed her attention to a frame on the wall, containing a greyscale photo and some medals. She drove over to it, inspecting it.

Birch Gun noticed that she was doing this; he drove over to the frame as well, pointing his gun downwards.

"Who is this?" T57 asked, pointing at the greyscale photo. It was of a rather large British self-propelled gun, adorned with medals and a little beret on the roof of his superstructure.

"My dad." Birch Gun's response was concise and dripped with aloofness. "He was a soldier."

T57 took a closer look at a medal - on it was enscribed: "The Second Battle of Krovstykl".

"What the heck is Krovstykl?" T57 questioned, largely to herself.

"It is- was a city. Two large battles were held there in the Twenty Years' War. My father served in that war - he survived five years..."

T57 had nothing to say. His father was a soldier in the infamous Twenty Years' War!

"It is not important now," Birch Gun muttered solemnly. "My mother and I get along well, and we live a good life. Apart from the manhunt that had focused on him. That is not good..."

"Any tank that threatens me, I teach them a lesson," T57 replied, a high concentration of gruffness in her voice. "...That may be the reason why I have been expelled from a lot of schools."

"It would probably be a good idea now to go to bed." Birch Gun turned away from the frame on the wall, accelerating into the stairs that were a few metres away from him. His turret turned to his rear, looking at T57. He ushered the American to come up with him.

In front of the stairs, on the top floor, was an unmarked white door, which was the gate to Birch Gun's small room. He opened the door, letting T57 in with him. Birch Gun's barrel reached the light switch, flicking it. Instantly, the light came on, partially concealed inside the tubular lampshade that lived with the lightbulb.

The room was a box, with a single bed at the bottom right corner of the room, below a window. The window was open, letting the moonlight settle on the bed. A shadow draped over the moonlight, which Birch Gun drove into, observing his bed. Everything was as he left it.

Opposite to the bed was a pine wood desk; a small tracktop situated upon it. The tracktop was closed, as if it was a book. On the desk were also some other things: a potted plant that happened to be dead (because Birch Gun forgot to water it for a couple of months), a figure of the FV304 self-propelled gun (obviously not to scale), and the FV304 plush toy that T57 had bought for Birch Gun some time ago.

On the left to the desk was a bookcase, with some books like, "How to Find Targets Accurately" and "Guide to the Q.F 18 and 25 Pounder Guns".

"Hmm..." Birch Gun scratched his gun shield as he thought. "Aha! I have an idea," Birch Gun spoke whilst turning to T57. "I have a sleeping bag under my bag. You can sleep in that."

"Uh huh," T57 agreed. She drove over to the bed, looking under it. She rummaged around under it, eventually grabbing at something that felt like a sleeping bag. She pulled it out, noticing that it was a bright pink and had a floral pattern on it. "Is this Ram II's?" she asked, laughing.

"No! It was my mother's, but she got a "onesie" - whatever that is, so I inherited it. It's very cosy. If you don't like that, you can sleep on the rug; but be careful, because there might be some mud in it."

"It's fine," T57 replied. "Thank you, Birch Gun." With that, the American artillery piece laid the sleeping bag on the floor, instantly hopping into it and zipping it up. Within a minute, she was asleep and snoring.

Birch Gun, as he clambered into his bed, heard the rather audible snoring. He never thought that sweet, small T57 would be the one to SNORE LIKE A WHALE. No matter how much he tried, he could not sleep. It was like having a lawnmower's engine to his tank ears.

T57, after an eternity (at least, it felt like that for Birch Gun), stopped snoring, and Birch Gun was finally able to sleep...

Three hours later, the moon had been replaced by the sun, which was firing rays of light onto the window in Birch Gun's room. These rays of light shone onto Birch Gun's turret, causing it to be warm to the touch. Suddenly, he was awake, instantly being blinded by the sun being particularly bright. The maroon curtains were shut, blocking off the sunlight and making the room darker.

In front of Birch Gun was T57; it was the first sight that he saw on this beautiful day. "Quick, Birch Gun! Wake up!" was the first thing she said, in an alarmed tone.

"What! What!" Birch Gun spluttered, almost having a paroxysm. "What is it, T57?!" He got himself up, groggily staring at the elevated T57.

"Hup, hup! It's time for the daily workout!" T57 sounded excited.

"Excuse me? What?" Birch Gun howled before T57 grabbed his gun, pulling him out of the bed. Her strength wasn't as good as she thought, so her attempt to get him out of bed failed, and he ended up toppling over. All he could say was: "What is this, T57!"

"It's my morning workout routine," T57 answered, hopping up and down. "Every morning, at 7 AM, I do vigorous exercise. How do you think I got these muscly tracks, eh?"

"By driving?" Birch Gun whimpered.

"No, you silly SPG!" T57 retorted, still hopping. "Come and join me! It'll be GREAT!"

Birch Gun happened to suffering from a condition known as "severe lack of sleep," which depleted his morale to the lowest it could be, therefore depriving him of any spirit to do "vigorous" exercise, as T57 explained it, at 7 AM. On a normal day (that means not having a crazy, overexcited American girl living in your bedroom), Birch Gun wouldn't wake up until 9 AM. It would take him ten minutes to drive to school, and then he would be on time.

"Hell no!" Birch Gun replied sleepily. He flew back onto his bed and fell asleep again.

T57 was immensely aggravated with this rejection. This aggravation fuelled her to drive over to Birch Gun's tracktop, pick it up, open the window and shout: "If you do not exercise, your tracktop will be out of the window!" Her reaction was feigned, but Birch Gun didn't know that.

Birch Gun muttered a swear, throwing the cover off himself and lunging for his tracktop. Already, he knew that letting T57 live in his room was a bad idea. She was already endangering his tracktop by dangling it on its bottom; who knows what could happen next?

As Birch Gun dove for the tracktop, T57 soared away, rolling on the ground like a bagel whose relationship with the floor is rather intimate. Birch Gun's tracktop was rocking on her hull like a boulder on the edge of a cliff.

"Give me my tracktop back!" Birch Gun bellowed, snarling like a dog and going straight for T57. His gun pointed forward as he drove at his extremely low top speed, imagining that a bayonet was on the end of the gun.

"This is good, Birch Gun!" T57's words dripped with happiness as she evaded Birch Gun's stab, rolling to the side. "Another hour of this, and you'll be ready!"

"What!" Birch Gun panted. He leapt in the air, intending to slam onto T57 and grab his tracktop. He ended up upside down, caught up in the rug, somehow...

"While you're recovering, I'm going to look at your TankLive Instant Messager account...," T57 spoke with pleasure as Birch Gun wrestled with the rug. "Hmm... who is this...? A girl named UE 57?" She laughed, put the tracktop firmly down on the ground. "I was only playing with you, Birch Gun. I think you've done enough training for now. You can have your tracktop back.

Birch Gun heaved, driving over to his tracktop, and casually placing it back on his table. He looked at the gleaming T57, who was not tired at all. He had half a mind to slap her, but his mother told him to "never hit a lady". But wait... _is she even a lady? _Birch Gun was in deep thought about this question for a while, until T57 interrupted his delicate train of thought.

"Right, old Birchie." T57's voice was sinister. "It's time for... round two!"

"E-Excuse me?" Birch Gun coughed, unable to process the thought, but T57 already grabbed his gun, pulling him out of the room and into the lounge. "What the heck are you doing?" asked the confused SPG as T57 switched on the television.

The television instantly flashed onto a news report about the Black Barrels. Birch Gun was intrigued by this and flopped onto the sofa, watching it intently. T57 stayed standing, watching it sombrely.

The report detailed how the Black Barrels had been pushed back massively in only one week, but the military have managed to uncover something terrible. There have been reports of a "super-weapon" being used by a German tank destroyer, who happens to be in the group. This tank has managed to fire out shells that cause massive internal destruction to tanks and external damage to the environment. It is essential to call the police if such a vehicle is spotted by anyone.

"How terrifying... I believe I have met this tank destroyer...," Birch Gun murmured.

The report also explained that some civilians have been taking up arms to fight the militants by themselves. "While this is appreciated," an old, boring militaristic tank droned, "it would be very much advised not to engage these vehicles in combat, as they are deadly and devout to their cause. Furthermore, since there have been special shells used in combat by this group, all of which are alien to this world and clearly superior technology to our shells, civilians will be in massive danger. We will find whoever has created these spooky shells, and we will punish them. The technology will be locked away for another day."

"Cool," T57 spoke, barely listening. She pulled a disc out of somewhere and slammed it into the DVD player. A quick fumble around with the buttons produced the video. It appeared on the screen in a blink.

T57 drove in front of the TV as it displayed the words _Lara Flöeschlossen's Fit Workout Techniques. _"You'll love this one," she remarked as a Panther II rolled onto the screen, speaking in a lilting accent.

Birch Gun looked at the screen indifferently until the tank came on. Then, if he had view ports, they would be glued to the screen.

"Ha! I knew you would love it!" T57 exclaimed happily, working along with the video.

Birch Gun looked over to T57, doing tank squats. He was unsure how it was possible to do that, but it seemed to be working for her. Birch Gun attempted to do a tank squat. After a scream in pain, Birch Gun realised that his tracks somehow collapsed, and his tracks were now bouncing off in the distance.

"What is this!" Birch Gun yelled, watching his track bounce off into the wall. "This defies the laws of physics!"

"Whoa!" T57 stared in awe. "You must have worked hard to do that, Birch Gun. The track only pops off when you work extra hard." She paused to take a breath. "Oh, and that happens a lot for your first few hundred squats."

"I'm not doing any more squats!" Birch Gun retorted! "MUM! I broke my tracks again!"

* * *

_The next day..._

Birch Gun, with his squeaky clean tracks, hopped out of his oil bubble bath. He rubbed his hull with a towel as the black liquid slid off him, spilling onto the ground.

His tracks had been fixed by his mother, the amazing Crusader SP, who happened to be a great mechanic. He opened the bathroom's door, seeing T57 right in front of him.

"Sorry," T57 began, "I was itching to have a shower." She entered the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Birch Gun marched on, driving down the stairs and appearing in the lounge. It was an average day in Tankville; the Black Barrels were gone and peace was restored. Birch Gun wouldn't have to go to school because all of the schools near him were destroyed! Yay!

It was 8 AM, and Birch Gun had already slogged through T57's daily routine (that involved him almost breaking his track), which made the SPG feel happy. No more exercise...

He was emanating greatness! Nothing could be going better. The sun was shining through the window, but there was still a slight chill. It had been a particularly cold morning that day, for no apparent reason. Still, Birch Gun got a proper night's sleep, something that he didn't get often, and he was ready to school at 8 AM. He could see the day ahead of him positively for once in his life.

He smashed the door open, preparing to go down the road. He was going to go to UE 57's house and ask her if she wanted to help her grind the Sherman Firefly on Thunder of War, a great tank game that was much better than Blitz, a really shoddy game on the iPad. It was also coming to PC, but Birch Gun had already quit.

He drove over to UE 57's house, minding the charred tank in the road. _That must be a remnant from the battle_, Birch Gun thought. He knocked on the door three times and waited.

...

Why was there no answer? Come on, UE 57! Birch Gun wants to play! "I haven't had a day of rest for ages...," Birch Gun murmured indignantly.

Finally, the door opened. A Nashorn stood at the door, an oil-stained cloth suspended on top of her barrel.

Birch Gun beamed up at her. "Is UE 57 here?"

"No!" the Nashorn spoke through sniffles. "She's at the T-Tankville Hospital."

"Thank you," Birch Gun replied, turning away and beginning to drive off. As the door closed behind him, he remembered about the Nashorn chav incident. That was horrible.

Eventually, the SPG arrived at Tankville Hospital. The familiar aroma of hospitality chilled him. He had been in here far too many times. He went up to the counter and inquired about a UE 57 patient.

"Ah, yes. A UE 57 is being kept here. What's your name, and what is your affliation with this tank?"

"I'm Birch Gun, and I'm her friend," Birch Gun responded.

"Ward 8. Room 4," the receptionist answered, not even looking up at Birch Gun. The British SPG revved up his tracks, setting off for the designated location.

After a few minutes, most of which involved Birch Gun getting lost in some random area. Eventually, he reached the room, entering it. There were many bedridden tanks groaning, including UE 57, who was not groaning because she was asleep.

Birch Gun made his way over to the blue tank destroyer, but a large British tank, presumably the doctor, stopped him, yelling something about "beauty sleep". Unfortunately, the magnitude of his voice woke up UE 57.

Upon seeing Birch Gun standing in front of her, UE 57 emitted a shrill, slightly emaciated squeal. The other patients who were not disturbed by the doctor's yell were now awake, shooting bad looks at UE 57. However, she did not notice, mainly because she was excited to see Birch Gun. She noticed the dents on his hull, but she disregarded it. Birch Gun normally had some wear.

The two tanks greeted each other. The doctor instructed him to "keep it down", and then left the room.

"That doctor is a bit of a grump... I think something bad has happened to him," UE 57 explained.

"I recognise him..." Birch Gun looked at the tank as he rammed the doors open, leaving the ward.

UE 57 changed the subject suddenly. She had more pressing issues to talk about. "To be honest, I've been expecting you to come and visit..."

"Of course I would visit," came a reply from Birch Gun. He was looking at the wall, noticing that there were oil stains on it.

"Has anything happened between the time in which I was hospitalised and now?" UE 57 asked, expecting a direct answer.

"Yeah, uh, of course!" responded Birch Gun. "It's been an interesting week. So much fun, that I think I skipped through the entire week."

"How does that make sense?" UE 57 asked.

"Because it was so fun, and time flies when you're having fun, right? And... well, I got knocked out and put into a coma for a week."

"What!" UE 57 expressed with shock. "Are you okay? How did that happen?"

"It's a long story. I can't even remember how it happened." Birch Gun wasn't in the mood to explain.

"Well, that's strange…," UE 57 mumbled.

"I was out for a week." Birch Gun tried to recollect his thoughts, but he was interrupted by a loud, shaky noise. The shaking of the building felt like a beat which the building was dancing to. Until there was an even louder noise, and then the piercing shriek of a siren. The patients in the room apprehensively began to discuss

Almost instantly after, two nurses smashed the doors open, driving into the patients' hospital beds and wheeling them away. UE 57 was taken away instantly by a nurse, leaving Birch Gun frantically scrambling for the entrance. Birch Gun did not have to move by himself as, fortunately for him, he was pushed out of the room anyway.

Flashes of red shone across Birch Gun's dented front. He looked up, noticing the circular red light on the ceiling, producing a horrible, loud noise whilst blinding Birch Gun. Regardless of this setback, he pressed on, amongst all of the scared patients who had completely abandoned their common sense, diving for the nearest exit like headless chickens.

Within ten seconds, the entire hallway was a jumble of crazy tanks, making unsightly track marks on the floor and even the walls. Birch Gun edged past the mounds of tanks, eventually driving over to the front exit and entering the stream of tanks that were already escaping.

Birch Gun realised his mistake as, upon exiting the hospital and feeling the fresh air on his gun shield, he noticed that it was actually not fresh air. In fact, it was dark, smoggy smoke. Brushing past the smoke, he saw the outline of a tank destroyer, and he witnessed it firing its huge gun, ploughing into an unfortunate tank next to him.

There wasn't even a scream. Birch Gun instantaneously lobbed himself behind a hedge, hoping to not be seen by the attacker. Fortunately for him, the smoke was clearing up, and behind the figure, he could see another outline – a more heroic one, evidenced by the fact that he was putting shots into the tank destroyer's rear.

The tank destroyer expressed visual anger as the tank behind him snapped his track in half with a single shell. He fired in fury; the force of the shell caused the smoke to clear completely, revealing the tank destroyer in front…

Jagdpanzer E 100. It was that Amwolf guy! What was even more shocking that, about twenty seconds after his track's destruction, his tracks sunk back into the sides of his hull, and out of the sides came some gigantic, metal legs, allowing the tank to move without tracks fitted to it.

Birch Gun was amazed and horrified when he saw Amwolf jump away from the tank's shell (which was a Centurion Mk. VII, by the way). He then ran towards the British tank, leaping onto him and crushing him entirely. The carcass of the Centurion was sent flying by a forceful kick.

Birch Gun was next.


	29. Amwolf's Redemption

_Screaming. Explosions. Amwolf…_

Three words that kept going through Birch Gun's brain. They bounced back and forth, as if his thoughts were a ball being batted repeatedly in a table tennis game.

He needed to stop him. But how?!

_Screaming… explosions… **Amwolf!**_

A gust created by the gigantic Jagdpanzer E 100's shell rustled the hedge that Birch Gun was cowering behind. He looked at where the shell went; as soon as he looked, he wished he hadn't. A destroyed wall of the hospital, a partially melted tank screaming in horror, and then their subsequent death.

Through the leaves, Birch Gun saw Amwolf turning himself to face the road, where shells were being flung at him and bouncing off. Birch Gun looked to the road, seeing one of the culprits of the shooting; not directly, but the SPG noticed a glint that directed his vision to a hidden target hidden in a bush. At once, the glint disappeared and Birch Gun worked out that it was a sniper's scope. Amwolf also noticed this glint and revealed a small coaxial gun to the left of his main gun; it spewed out a dirty flame at the bush.

Expectedly, the tank inside the bush recoiled and reversed from the bush; upon seeing the bush's movement, Amwolf's gun pasted the tank with its own oil. The bang that Amwolf's gun produced almost deafened Birch Gun, who looked up to the smoke that rose up from the tip of Amwolf's barrel.

At once, Birch Gun decided that he was screwed! To escape, he would need a master plan. Wait… it was obvious! He could…

All Birch Gun could hear was explosions. A second after, an explosion threw him in the air, and through his disoriented sights, he could see Amwolf with a few small bombs directly cascading on the roof of his superstructure. He didn't see what happened after — he was thrown onto the ground like a toy. An action figure hurled onto a bed by an angry child. Except what he was being hurled onto was not soft bedsheets; it was hard, cold concrete; unforgiving and lifeless.

Even though he was dazed to the point of near incapacitation, the British SPG knew he was flipped over on his side, and looking up, he saw a Lancaster bomber flying over him, his bomb bay doors opening up for another shot. The intended target was Amwolf, but these deadly bombs did nothing to him!

"I AM THE MACHINE!" Amwolf yelled lividly, splitting the Lancaster into a million pieces with a well placed shot. "None of you — NONE OF YOU can ever hope to defeat me!"

It was true!

Amwolf, ricocheting thousands of shells from every angle one could think of, stomped over to Birch Gun's body, picked him up with his gun, and placed him on the parking lot of the hospital, now a battlefield.

"It is time for your execution! Der Herr Meister Amwolf Adlersflügel is not just a born leader — he is also a scientist! I have split the atom to create the greatest shell ever known to the world of tanks!" Amwolf stepped back, stomping on a crushed Panzer I C behind him, kicking it away and aiming his gun at Birch Gun.

Birch Gun, stupefied, focused his broken sights on Amwolf; he was constantly moving around in his vision. He heard an audible click amongst all of the calamity coming from the tank destroyer's gun.

"Goodbye, Birch Gun!" Amwolf bellowed before adding: "For the last time!" With that, the most catastrophic bang one could ever hear was expelled from Amwolf's gun, travelling to its intended point: Birch Gun.

Everything felt like it was going in slow motion.

In one final stand, with all of his withering might, Birch Gun also fired a shell, just milliseconds before Amwolf. The glint of Amwolf's new shell expressed to Birch Gun about how emphatic he was about this conquest –- to kill a child tank. Amwolf's shell was slow in its delivery, and that's what let Birch Gun's shell overcome it, to meet at the end of Amwolf's barrel.

The resulting boom was the most intense and invigoratingly horrifying boom that Birch Gun would experience; or ever experience. Once again, he was thrown back by the blast, but further this time. He flipped as he met the concrete, scraping the floor upside-down. From his weak, defeated state, he could see Amwolf enveloped in a deathly mushroom cloud, complete with another explosion. Flashes of exceptional colours illuminated Birch Gun's dirty hull as he watched a supertank crumble.

"Y...no… not like this…," Amwolf staggered, the mushroom cloud clear from sight. Amwolf was now a pitiful specimen, but not incapable of taking Birch Gun down with him. His gargantuan legs were just strong enough to hold his lumbering weight, but now they were failing, causing him to almost fall. All he could utter in his incomprehensible state was: "You will get it, Birch Gun! It will come! The prophecy…!"

All of Amwolf's strength was now focused on destroying Birch Gun. Hopping on one leg with admirable determination, he forced himself to load another shell, convinced that this next shell would kill the indestructible Birch Gun… if he could fire it!

Birch Gun would not give up after all of this. In a similar state to Amwolf, he loaded another shell, preparing to fire with his trembling gun. He could see that one of Amwolf's legs was in serious need of a high explosive shell hugging it, so he decided he would aim there. Trying to breathe deeply, he trained his gun on the leg…

"It is your time, Birch Gun!" Amwolf was now ready to fire the shell and take Birch Gun out in glory, before being mobbed by angry tanks and being killed himself. He was now feeling pain from every shell that struck him; it would not be long before they started penetrating. It felt as if the ground beneath him warped as Amwolf fired off his second and last shell; he attempted to maintain his balance upon firing the shell, but his attempt was feeble.

"**NO!**" A figure sent itself at an incredible speed towards Birch Gun, slamming into him.

He was safe. He knew this because as his tracks spun and he slid on the ground, he could still feel himself breathing. His turret turned to the flash of light that expanded out of the shell, blinding him and probably making him lose one of his senses for life. The ground around the exploded shell was sent upwards, and so was the tank. As soon as the bits of debris slammed onto Birch Gun's hull, he wondered why it was decided that this day, he would survive. The same could not be said for the mystery tank.

As Birch Gun's vision returned, Amwolf was writhing on his side; a part of his broken leg was now on the ground beside him. The rain of mud and concrete rained on him as well, but he didn't seem to care. A few seconds later, he was dead, and Birch Gun could tell that by observing his hull, littered with huge holes, smoke rising out of them. Was that his ammo rack?

…

Birch Gun was not deprived of horrible sights. He looked to his side and noticed a piece of curled metal next to him, presumably from the tank that had sacrificed their life for him. The armour was thin and painted with a colour that Birch Gun did not recognise at the time.

Apart from that, the residue of the battle between the German behemoth, about fifty soldiers and Birch Gun was chilling. There were dead tanks as far as the eye could see…

"Enemy down," heard Birch Gun. At once, a camouflaged tank emerged from the street behind him, speaking into his radio. This tank was a TVP T 50/51, who observed the SPG apprehensively. Birch Gun's turret was still facing the same way; looking at the destroyed houses in front of him. _There were families in there…_, thought Birch Gun crestfallenly.

"He's the only survivor," the Czech tank muttered into his radio. "The one who caused the Jagdpanzer to explode."

A few minutes later, Birch Gun was asleep. Unsurprisingly, he was tired, but he was in the midst of a nightmare that was taking him to the brink of suddenly waking up and screaming. Along with this, a medical team rolled down the street; three ambulances, twenty paramedics and five doctors. A formidable team!

As soon as one of the doctors saw Birch Gun, he raced over to him, ordering the ambulance to get a stretcher. A minute later, Birch Gun was fastened onto the stretcher, still asleep. The nightmare was almost complete…

"Don't worry lad; you're safe with us now." The doctor spoke with utmost assurance, a paramedic in tow wheeling Birch Gun's stretcher. The dialogue quickly formed into other things — the state of Tankville Hospital, the effect of the Black Barrels, the luckiness of Birch Gun.

Birch Gun's nightmare had passed, leaving him on the stretcher. He woke up without a sound; he noticed all of the medical staff around him, and he was mostly at ease. However, Birch Gun was not satisfied... all he could think of was one thing in his damaged mind.

_UE 57._


End file.
